Malicious, Magical, Malfoy
by bor902
Summary: People often complained about a lack of birthright. Being reborn as Draco Malfoy meant I had the opposite issue. So many new things to take into account. Politics, magic, family traditions, the wizarding world and this odd new power that insisted my new reality was a game. What's a Gamer SI to do. Semi-inspired by "Magical Player", "In Bad Faith" and "Puppet of time"
1. Chapter 1

**Just playing around, wanted to see how being reborn into another character would change the opening chapters. (My other HP story, "Empathic capacity of a teaspoon", is a Ron Weasley SI)**

 **If this gets enough traction, I will continue it. That's how I usually judge what fanfic I write for next, the one with the biggest following/potential following.**

 **Chapter 1: INTRODUCTION**

* * *

I came into the world silently, and lived the first year of my life as thus. Being the child of a presumably inner circle Death Eater was not an all-too-relaxing experience atmosphere-wise. Neither for me or my family. I imagined that my parents had me because they believed the war to be over.

And as I would later find out, it was. The ministry was kneeling at the feet of the Death Eaters, the populace secured, resigned to live under a new reign of dark wizards. Long reign the Dark Lord and with him, one of his trusted advisors, Lucius Malfoy.

Then, came the prophecy. I don't know what madness assailed Voldemort, but on his last step before finally crumbling the current government and establishing himself as the God-King of Britain, the man turned his back on the war effort to concentrate on disentangling the prophecy concerning him and one Harry Potter.

The war extended a year beyond my birth. My father was never present. My mother was nothing less than a constant companion, sure of her safety, yet still taking care of a baby in what basically amounted to a bloody civil war. I was only parted from her presence in the odd occurrences when Death Eaters roamed the halls of our manor. Then, I was mostly with my grandfather, Abraxas. Sometimes with but a house-elf as my only company.

I used the time where there were no expectations laid upon me to plan. I was in a new world, a new family, a new situation. It was the same old book though, which brought about some interesting musings about the creation process of alternate realities.

As I mentioned, my transcendent knowledge of my past life made me somewhat of a quiet child. Screams were only let out when it was utterly necessary and all in all, I behaved as the perfect gentleman. My family spoiled me, and I spoiled them. I received everything they could possibly imagine a baby wanted. And they received a child that managed to structure his sleep schedule in a way that did not cause my family to be woken up at ungodly hours by hand-wringing house-elves.

What a baby wanted, by the way, me in particular, was to be read children's stories. Mostly so I could learn about the culture of the wizarding world without tipping off my grandfather about further oddities in my behaviour. The man was the only one who suspected I was more than just a child whose good breeding had resulted in what most would have referred to as a genius.

Probably because he was the only one with actual experience in raising children before me. I imagined what Lucius must have been like as a baby and laughed. Mostly because I was unable to divorce the image of him as a young child and his overly long hair.

Not that we didn't get along, mind you. I loved all of my immediate family. My grandfather was simply the only one not completely besotted with me, and I often found him looking at me with a discerning gaze. A gaze that seemed to be calculating how much my oddness would benefit the house of Malfoy, a task I was very willing to take upon myself.

Family was family. Everyone else... was everyone else.

I had often contemplated how it would have been had I been born into old money in my last life. Well, now I had the chance to find out.

-/-

The death of Voldemort disrupted the quiet life I had lived up to that point... slightly. The absence of my father stayed consistent, although the reasoning behind his withdrawn behavior and the bags under his eyes changed. Before that, it had been long nights out fighting a civil war. Now it was long nights out consulting a lawyer and fighting the bloody battle of politics.

Nobody really believed his claims of having been held under the Imperius, but the Ministry needed money to build back up what the war had destroyed. They also knew that without Voldemort, my father would hardly step out of line, to once again roam the streets cloaked in black and masked in white.

Pay we did. Oh, how we paid. My grandfather was wroth with his disgrace of a son. This had all been his fault, after all. We were nobility. We did not go fight in wars. We funded them.

I quite agreed. War was inefficient. Cultural subversion and demoralization was a tactic much more likely to work in changing the fate of a nation.

The silver lining behind this entire affair was the fact that Lucius had, after his rather foolish debacle, grown into his own man, so to say. Realized the truth behind the Malfoy family tradition of not being a soldier for anyone's war, not even one's own. Well, that was the feeling I got at least, from watching and listening Lucius and Abraxas interact. The things said around babes... I wonder how they would have reacted if they knew that I understood what they were saying.

The entire situation soon blew over. Despite being the perpetrators of the war and being caught with our hand in the cookie jar, the Malfoy family got off clean. The only thing lost in the end was money that would replenish itself with the numerous streams of passive income, and some respect, naturally. I imagined that I would experience quite some hostility upon attending Hogwarts.

The respect I had for my family grew, and with it I allowed my love for them to grow as well. Having competent people around you made life more exciting. Politics was of little interest for me personally, but I imagined I would learn when taught. It was hardly a field I was allowed to be uneducated in as the presumed future Lord Malfoy. It was also my birthright. Politics that was, not the money. I would be foolish to deny it.

Just as I would be foolish to deny my other birthright. Magic. It was not a core, as many believed, and I was sure that I was one of the experts on the subject. The fact that I had lived several decades without one made distinguishing the connection I had to this new source of power very easy. What I was gifted with was a metaphorical rope with a bucket attached to it, with which I could laboriously draw upon the water of magic, hiding within its well.

I imagined that my bucket and rope would grown mightier as I too grew in age. At two, I was holding myself back by starting my study into magic with simple concepts.

But soon, I would tear apart the world with a simple flick of my wrist. To hold so much Might in the palm of my hand, I was not only Right, but Justice itself!

"Hahahahaha." I laughed madly, which caused a bit of an accident in my diaper.

Narcissa held me up and wrinkled her nose. "Did you make a biggie Dracypoo?"

Justice, soon, right after getting my nappies changed.

* * *

 **The other difference between this and my other SI HP story is that I wrote this now, with my three years of sporadic writing experience, whereas the other story was my first ever.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

In any normal situation where I suddenly received the ability to bend the world to my will, I would have started with minor telekinesis, due to simple safety reasons. You could either make something lift off the ground, or you couldn't, and no matter how much you overcharged your spell when targeting a feather, it was still in the end, a feather, hardly something dangerous.

But as fate made it, I was Draco Malfoy. Draco, as in the Latin word for dragon. I refused to abandon my sense of humour for something as trifling as safety reasons. It would, after all, be quite funny if a child named dragon exhibited his first form of magic as a breath of fire.

I was ambitious, I was bold, I was willing to learn. The only thing I had failed to take in calculation were my parents. Who apparently had wards set in my room in the children's wing. And yes, we were so rich we had a children's wing. I was still an only child by the way.

The wards were simple but effective. It would alert my parents if anything dangerous were to find itself present in my room. Like, for example, a fire. I was brought down from the success high from managing to create a small spark in front of my mouth by my mother barging in not a second later, looking around frantically.

She seemed in a panic. I hadn't been a normal baby, and therefore hadn't attempted to kill myself yet, so this was likely the first time she'd ever had reason to fear for me in any capacity. Holding me calmed her down. As did my saying, "I'm fine, nothing happened mother." I slept with my parents that day.

Ok, the first piece of magic I'd apparently have to learn was how to detect wards and other enchantments. Then fire breathing. I was still determined to make it my first public display of magic, though. Couldn't let my parents think I was a squib, could I?

So I set myself on the task on how to feel magic, which, I gladly admitted, stumped me quite handily. How was one supposed to learn the skill? Did it even exist? I remembered Dumbledore having it, but comparing myself to the man would be a bit ambitious of me.

"Dobby!" I yelled out, infusing a minimal amount of magic into my voice. The elf appeared before me with a crack, as ugly as the books had described him. I sure as hell hoped his species wasn't the only type of elf in existence.

...I wanted my thousand-year-old forest lolis.

"Yes, young master?" the elf asked in his squeaky voice while fretting and bunching up his pillowcase toga in his hands.

I hadn't had the chance to interact with the elf much yet, due to him serving in the kitchen. So he probably thought I would treat him like shit just like my father.

"How does one train the capacity to sense magic?" I asked the servant, who went cross-eyed at the question.

"Dobby... doesn't know?" he answered, flinching into himself.

"Damn. Well, wait. Can you do it, and only don't know the method to train it?" I asked further. The elf nodded his head.

"Dobby can feal magic, but born with it, no locomotive," he squeaked out.

Well, that was rather unfortunate. Although I doubted one could only gain the skill by being born with it. Now I imagined that there were different ways to sense magic, so trying to emulate Dobby's would probably not be my best bet on learning the skill. I was quite sure going to my grandfather and getting access to the library would be more conducive, but I was set on my path. Nobody would learn of my magical ability until I puked up a firestorm in front of my family.

"How does it feel to sense magic?" I asked the nervous elf.

"Smellings the air, different stuff, different smell," the elf managed to wring out, after which I dismissed him politely. He had given me much to think about.

Dobby smelling the air to sense magic implied that it wasn't necessarily a second sense, but could be integrated into the already-existing senses. I had many magical toys and objects in my room. Most of my things were enchanted, but the object I naturally spent the most time with was my blanket that could regulate its temperature.

I picked it up and hesitantly smelled it. It smelled mostly neutral, with a dash of citrus. I smelled harder. I knew that the citrus smell wasn't the magic. Firstly, I was fairly sure a magical smell would be something I didn't know the name of, and secondly, all my clothes smelled like citrus too. It was just the wash my family used.

Smelling didn't seem to do much for me so I stopped, happy that I didn't have to keep making a fool out of myself. Then I sighed, realizing what I would have to do next. I ran the thing along my skin, hoping to delay the next experiment by trying out the sense of touch. After a few minutes of touching the thing, rustling it next to my ear, I sighed and stuck the thing in my mouth.

I chewed on it, letting my tongue touch all its creases. Its consistency was woolly. It tasted of nothing really, expect maybe disappointment. I didn't let the discomfort stop me from keeping up with the attempt for a bit more. Nobody ever said magic was easy, after all. No change.

I spat out my blanket mournfully, and tried out the last sense, concentrating really hard I tried to see beyond reality and into the magic of the blanket.

Nothing.

All I had to show for my tries was a chewed up blanket with a saliva coating and a newfound sense of shame. "Goddamnit," I muttered and went over to the chests holding all my toys, toys that I seldom used, really. I mostly spent my time with the fairly advanced story books I was able to get my hands on. Only one picture per chapter!

I pulled out a magical snake plush. It tried to wriggle out of my grasp, its artificial animal instincts sensing the danger. "If it's any consolation, this will hurt me more than it will hurt you," I said to the thing, at which it started wiggling harder.

Then I stuck it in my mouth.

The things I do for my parents.

* * *

 **Gamer power gets introduced next chapter, but he'll have to unlock most of its functions first.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I started releasing an original story on RoyalRoad. It basically has the same premise as this, reincarnation, gamer etc. Just that its written with four years of writing experience under my belt, and I'm writing the world to be a more serious than the HP one.**

 **I would really appreciate it if you checked it out, so without further ado, please do so, find it in my author profile on RoyalRoad(same name), under Fictions. It's name is "Living a Long Life as a Legend."**

 **Chapter 3**

* * *

I met Gregory and Vincent regularly. Play dates as they were, shut in a pen, room, or yard with the two idiots. I was forced to play with them several hours a piece while they babbled away. Now, playing with children wasn't that bad. They were capable of following the rules of games such as pétanque and gobstones (only with parental supervision). The problems arose when they opened their mouths to attempt conversation.

Suffice to say my ears and linguistic capacities suffered greatly. At those times, I would wistfully stare at the adult table, where my parents and the parents of my two future minions would be chatting. I once eavesdropped on one of their conversations. Unluckily enough, I had only the time to hear about the finer points of torturing muggles from my father.

Maybe Greg and Vince weren't too bad. I decided to go with what I had. I was unwilling to intentionally alienate an allied family. It never occurred to me that I could gain anything from the time spent with the two, so it came as a surprise when I felt a small buzzing in the back of my head when Vince performed a feat of accidental magic.

We had been flying around on children's brooms. Unable to go more than a few feet above the ground, or accelerate faster than walking speed, it still must have been an intimidating fall for a five year old. And thus, when Vince fell, he didn't.

Well, he didn't completely stop falling; he just decelerated, I observed silently. The buzzing in the back of my head tried to distract me, as Vince's fear turned into elation, his body slowly lowering itself onto the ground. The buzzing stopped.

I was slightly distracted by the following jubilation of our small gathering by the fact that it was the first time I'd sensed magic. I sat down under the shade of a tree, concentrating on the area of feeling that had encompassed the sense. I idly watched as my father patted the older Crabbe on the back in congratulations.

The sense had been an irritation somewhere in the head. An itch that buzzed unpleasantly around. I wondered why it was accidental magic that had led to finally discovering the sense.

Because accidental magic, no matter the power, was more unrestrained than trained magic. I imagined it was a comparison between of water spilled on the floor, and water sitting snugly in a bottle. You would notice one over the other. The spilled water took up a larger surface. But the magic necessary to fuel something that was basically a simple arresto momentum was incomparable to the magic in the wards around our manor. So then why could I not feel those?

The answer was obvious. Because I was inside them. I was used to them. Would you be able to realize that you were submerged in water if you'd been so for the last five years? Obviously not.

I shouldn't get ahead of myself theorizing. I still had a play date to finish.

-/-

Later that day, alone in my room, I thought of the issue further. If the reason why I was incapable of sensing the magic of my home was that I was too used to it, to a part of it, then I would simply have to be a part of it no more.

Dissociation from my own magic, achieved by spending decades in a body without it, had let me clearly feel the connection I had to it. Now I had to disassociate from this house, all the magic present within it. I was not a part of it, I was simply a void, observing it all from within.

A switch was flicked in my head and I could suddenly feel. Ironic, that to further myself as a Malfoy, one of the first things I needed to do was to mentally remove myself from it. I shut down the feeling before I got overwhelmed. Training to keep it up constantly could come later.

I hoped that the year or so I'd spent trying to sense magic in other ways had contributed to my new ability. Like a bottle being filled to the brim, Vince's display of accidental magic simply the one drop too much. It would be pretty shitty if it hadn't contributed in any way. It would mean I'd wasted a lot of time.

Being able to read and understand the language, but having no access to the tomes that held the knowledge one needed. Frustrating. It seemed that the adage 'knowledge is power' held true even more in the wizarding world that it did in the muggle one. Well, hopefully soon I would be resourceless no more.

I now had access to the skill that would let me learn the skill I had set out to learn all that time ago. Convoluted, but true. I simply hoped that there was a spot in my room that remained unaffected by the danger-sensing ward. I could leave it, sure. Unlike back then, surely there was an unwarded place somewhere in this manor.

But it was a thing of principle now. The challenge had been put forth and accepted. It was an exercise in vanity, arrogance, and impracticality, to waste my time on an intangible challenge put forth by myself, but I had all the time in the world, didn't I?

I revved up the magic sensing engines again.

And stared dumbfoundedly at the... what could best be described as a popup message appearing before me.

 **You have learned the skill "Magic Sense."**


	4. Chapter 4

**I started releasing an original story on RoyalRoad. It basically has the same premise as this, reincarnation, gamer etc.**

 **I would really appreciate it if you checked it out, so without further ado, please do so, find it in my author profile on RoyalRoad(same name), under Fictions. It's name is "Living a Long Life as a Legend."**

 **Chapter 4**

* * *

For all that my life was apparently a game now, it didn't really change much at all. Mostly because it wasn't a full-fledged game. I had no status screen, no quest, no mini-map and no apparent experience system. I'd killed several garden gnomes to find out that last one.

What I did have, though, was a skill quantifier. I said quantifier because that was what it did. I did not gain skills from skill books, encounters, or anything of the sort. Neither did the fact I had the skill let me go any further beyond that what I'd learned. I had hesitated calling myself a gamer at all, but it was that or calling myself, 'The guy with a skill quantifying ability.'

But yeah, my gamer ability did one thing, and one thing only at the moment. And that was give me every single bit of information I could ever need on a particular learned skill. It quantified what I had, as mentioned before.

It was immensely useful. I had learned the fire sorcery skill after finding a place I could practice. The skill description provided me all with information I needed to improve the skill further. It told me of the highest temperature I could reach, how fine my control was, how much magic I needed for a particular usage, and so on.

From this I could extrapolate what I needed to work on to improve. As I said, very useful. I trained doggedly, focused to a point, occasionally glancing at the changes appearing in the skill.

From the outside perspective I was simply a young boy, hiding in his toy box and spitting out embers while reading invisible information from the air, but on the inside, I was a warrior of magic perfecting my craft so I could make my new parents proud enough to give me access to the library.

I was the dragon.

-/-

I had enough mastery over my fire spitting abilities approximately a month later. It turned out that once you actually had the chance to practice, creating fire was really not an overly complicated piece of magic. Thermodynamics in general wasn't. It was simply controlling the movement of heat in one particular area to create or siphon it away. For a little bit of extra magic you could make the heat fancy by adding actual flames.

The time had ripened like a fruit, and now was the time to pluck it. Despite my parents never even indicating in the slightest that they were nervous about my lack of accidental magicks, I still knew that they would be happy to witness me shape our shared birthright to my will.

So a few days after having gained sufficient mastery of the skill, and it being the rare occasion that we were all present at the dinner table–father spent a lot of time in the ministry, and grandfather gossiping with his friends–I stood up on my raised chair and proclaimed, in very butchered Latin mind you,

"Ego draconis, audi me: et frendet."

And then proceeded to breathe a long stream of fire into the air above me. It wasn't much, the stream only being a foot wide and three long. But looking at the deliciously gobsmacked faces of my usually composed family made me feel like I'd just stolen fire from the gods.

The first one that to come out of the stupor was my grandfather, who simply blinked once slowly, said, "Meet me in my study once your parents are done congratulating you," then went back to reading his newspaper. Not the prophet, that horrible rag. But "Politically minded," a newspaper that contained mostly unbiased stories about the most important political occurrences in Britain and the mainland.

I was disrupted from any further thought along the line of unbiased reporting by my mother. Who, with the supreme grace of a noble lady, or that of a ninja (I was unsure), snuck behind me and lifted me up from my chair. Cuddling her face next to mine muttering something along the lines of, "My beautiful baby boy. Magic-something, control-that so proud."

My father didn't come over. He continued sitting where he was, with an unbelievably smug look on his face and a gaze that seemed to be looking beyond the physical surroundings an eye could normally perceive.

Suffice to say, everyone was very excited.

* * *

 **Very very excited.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Check out my original stories on RoyalRoad/spacebattles/sufficient velocity. My newest one, "Living a Long Life as a Legend" is a gamer reincarnation fic.**

 **Chapter 5: I1**

 **Unedited**

* * *

Abraxas leaned back in his armchair, watching as his grandson sat opposite of him, eagerly soaking in the sights of the study that he'd never seen before.

He could understand Draco's interest, it was quite a nice study. Worthy of the Malfoy family head, not that he would bear the title much longer. He contemplated how exactly to start the conversation shortly before coming to a decision.

"You might have noticed, in your interactions with your peers, that they aren't very bright in comparison to you," Abraxas said, watching as Draco gained, what would be termed as a unicorn-confronted-by-a-great-evil look.

His grandson schooled his expression back into a neutral facade quickly, only a slight tinge of guilt marring apathetic perfection. Draco nodded.

Was he feeling guilty for considering others below him? A trait he would soon learn to dismiss, if he felt guilt for everyone inferior to him, he would never have the time to get anything done.

"The reason for your overly developed cognitive abilities, disregarding your good breeding naturally, is a talent of the Malfoy family that has manifested in you quite strongly."

Abraxas watched as Draco tilted his head cutely, he would have rubbed his grandson's head, were there not a table between them.

"The mind arts," Draco said, sounding, very sure of himself. Abraxas raised an eyebrow.

The only truly complicated books Draco had access to were books dealing with their family, autobiographies, genealogies and such. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the lad had actually read them.

"Indeed, as you know, every noble family worth mentioning has affinities for specific branches of magic. More often than not it manifests in the person simply being very talented in that branch of magic, but sometimes, the talent manifests in an instinctual ability. Do you know any examples of this?" He asked, testing Draco's knowledge while educating him.

His grandson didn't have to think overly long. "The Black family and their talent in transfiguration and flesh morphing dark magic. A person who manifests this talent is a Metamorphmagus. The newest instance of such a person appearing is the daughter of Andromeda Black." He said, again, sounding very sure of himself.

"Succinctly put, though, although describing the talents of the Black family as laying in transfiguration and flesh morphing dark magic is a bit of a misnomer. The Blacks have a talent in transmogrification." Abraxas praised and promptly corrected.

Before he could continue onwards with how this manifestation of talent concerned Draco, the boy in question asked a rather interesting question.

"If two families, both with a rich history intermarry, could the two different magical leanings cancel each other out? Andromeda's daughter is the result of a marriage between a pureblood and a muggle-born, the muggle-born is bringing no heritage whatsoever into the equation. Therefore one could assume that the Black blood was capable of asserting its magical dominance more completely, resulting in a child born with a manifested talent." Draco asked in one breath, sounding slightly winded afterwards.

Abraxas had clearly underestimated his grandson's intelligence. The conjecture was absolutely correct, assembled from only some basic knowledge. Now he had the conundrum of how to answer the question. If he should even answer it.

He couldn't help but let a small smile grace his face though. Such intelligence, worthy of the truth.

"Yes, your assumption is correct," Draco's eyes lit up at his admission, "as a metaphor, you can imagine the parents of a child as two pieces of equally long parchment. If the parchment is pureblooded, it is almost fully filled out, if it is mudblooded, it has but a few words on it. Two pureblood parchments, when creating a child overlap, some of the words turning into gibberish, harming the chance of the child manifesting a talent, manifested or otherwise."

Draco waited until Abraxas made a pause before interrupting, such a polite boy, "and if a pureblood and muggleborn parchment overlap, almost the entirety of the pureblood parchment is transcribed onto the child, making it likelier for it to manifest a talent."

Abraxas clapped slowly as his grandson preened slightly under his proud gaze. "Yes, naturally this metaphor is only relevant for the magical affinity side of things, biological traits are more half and half."

He forestalled the inevitable question about why not every pureblood was intermarrying with the filth creeping into their society with the answer.

"Naturally this only applies to talents. Mudbloods have an inferior connection to magic, which their children inherit, no matter how powerful their pureblood counterpart may be." If you calculated the average that was.

The bell curve of magical power was thrown out of whack the moment one introduced muds into the equation. There was a higher chance of the child being pathetically weak, or extremely strong, leaning more towards the chance of the child being pathetically weak. The average magical strength of half-bloods was noticeably below the pureblood average.

Voldemort and Dumbledore were simply freaks, and that was all they ever would be.

"And we gain other, non-magical things if we marry other purebloods right?" Draco asked, to which Abraxas nodded.

"Yes, alliances, knowledge, a small but steady growth in magical power and the pleasant feeling of not having someone who has no idea about our way of life intruding into our family, but enough that topic," Abraxas waved his hand dismissively and went straight for the throat, unwilling to be distracted once again, "You also have a manifested talent, you are namely a natural occlumens, which is a subcategory of the mind arts."

* * *

 **We get to know Abraxas and the reasoning behind the pureblood ideology a bit better.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Check out my original story "Living a Long Life as a Legend" on RoyalRoad, it has a similiar premise to this.**

 **Chapter 6**

* * *

 **You should read this out loud if you wanna learn how to sound like a pretentious prick.**

I was quite restless that night, receiving so much information pertinent to one's future would do that to a ma-, eer child. I had never noticed having any inclination towards occlumency, and one would think I knew best right?

Well apparently not, the proof that grandfather had brought to bear had been quite immense. There were several enchanted items in our mansion that read the mind of the afflicted to better cater to their needs. Some of my toys for example.

My blanket and plush snake were enchanted to change their colour in accordance to my unspoken wishes, but they'd never done so.

There was a ward cast around my parent's bedroom, that should have alerted Lucius of anyone nearing with evil intentions, but I had simply strolled through and dumped egg batter on my sleeping parents without them being alerted.

When I thought about occlumency, I thought about an attacker and defender, one trying to get into the mind of the other, and the other clearing his mind to prevent the attacker from taking off with any useful information.

My occlumency wasn't like that, I was apparently a stealther. A very rare bred of occlumency that while hard to learn, could manifest as a talent in a line laden with mind magic. Like the Malfoy's for example. The ratio of people born with the talent and those who learned the method were, according to my grandfather, 13 to 1.

A stealther was someone who, as the name implied, was simply invisible to mind magic instead of having to actively defend against it. Therefore it was plausible for me to never have even noticed I had the talent, the other method of determining it was the fact that all natural occlumens were more intelligent than their peers, but I'd simply chalked that up to my reincarnation.

I doubted I was receiving any boost to my cognitive faculties though, the original Draco certainly hadn't had the talent, and while one should take everything said in the books with a gigatonne of salt, I was fairly sure the original would have informed everyone of his superiority.

I knew that if I wasn't born with the talent. It must have been a result of my reincarnation. I'd already been fully aware while in the womb of my mother, hardly something a fetus brain was capable of facilitating. No, my thought processes and memories weren't stored in the brain, they were stored in my soul. A brain would decay after death after all, taking all its knowledge with it. A soul however, was eternal.

This also explained the fact that I needed less food to function than one would assume, the brain took up almost a fourth of the energy a body consumed after all.

The memories of how the actual melding between soul and knowledge had occurred, were murky though. Understandable, considering reality had been twisting in on itself at the time.

I chuckled, I truly was brainless wasn't I. I considered branching out with my research to find out how exactly the fact I was probably controlling my body through my soul affected my biology, but decided against it.

It worked, and wasn't that all that actually mattered? Knowledge for the sake of knowledge, what a pathetic way of spending one's time.

Knowledge was nice and all, but only really feasible when applicable to real life, and the knowledge that would soon be bestowed upon me would be anything but useless.

With the advent of my magical talent, my grandfather had apparently decided it was time to start my education. With him, I would practice my wandless magic, or sorcery as I preferred calling it, and the mind arts.

Now occlumency was not something applicable to me, the only use I could ever find in it, was if I managed to actively drop the talent concealing my mind, so I could interact with certain magicks.

But my grandfather insisted that I start learning legilimency with him, since if I had a manifested talent on the defending side of the mind arts, surely I would at least be slightly talented in the attacking side of it.

I couldn't fault that logic, made of false premises as it was. I was unlikely to disappoint my grandfather anyway, my more mature outlook meant I would excel in any task I took upon myself, in comparison to my peers at least.

Additionally to that particular bit of tutoring, I would also start learning some rather outdated languages.

My grandfather had informed me, smiling all the while, that while I now had access to the non-magically strenuous part of the library ( too strenuous for me was everything but potions apparently), I effectively only had access to less than a third of that.

I had, intellectually known that the Malfoy's predated William the conqueror, but I had seemingly been unable to bring that knowledge into the logical conclusion, that a lot of the books in our library were in fucking middle English, an absolute hogwash of a language, ancient Greek and Latin.

Some were also in French and German, but I already spoke of those languages and wouldn't need tutoring. I had simply told my grandfather I would attempt to learn both of them independently, my reasoning for that being the fact that the were languages popular enough there was widespread literature that could help you master them.

It seemed I would be putting another block of unearned achievement onto the pyramid of that made up my life.

I sighed and turned my thoughts onto the last tidbit that had come up in our conversation. Namely blood rhetoric, it all made sense really, genetic traits were inheritable, why wouldn't magical strength accumulate? But Dumbledore and Voldemort were still odd enough that I would need to put some research into the topic. While the explanation that blood-mixing provided for a larger bell curve with a smaller average made sense, I would still rather see for myself.

My grandfather was hardly unbiased after all, and while one should espouse one's superiority even if it was not true, I liked having some actual truth behind my boasts.

The loss of potential magical power to blood mixing was a hefty one, if it was indeed true, not really worth the slightly bigger chance of gaining a manifested talent in one's child.

But what if the muggleborn in question was magically powerful enough to trump even some purebloods? Then the only issue left to solve would be the teaching of wizarding traditions. People had immigrated successfully before, the chance rose the younger one started as well.

And nobody could ever say that Hermione Granger was incapable of learning.

I would have to see.

* * *

I **read this out loud while editing it, holy shit I'm a good author, I got his voice absolutely perfect. So fucking pretentious.**

 **(I'm going with the assumption that Hermione didn't only surpass most purebloods in school by not having a social life and spending all her time learning magic, but that she also was at least above average in magical strength.)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

The language tutoring was going quite well, I had ended up with a single teacher for all three of the languages I was learning in the end. He was a pleasant elderly man, who could have been suspected of being alive when middle English was still in use. It was one of the few explanations I'd found to explain his expert grasp of the language and his ability to relay that onto me.

I wondered if there were manifested magical talents for language learning. I knew there were potions, which I wasn't allowed to take due to my age, that helped the process of acquisition, so it would make sense for there to be a magical talent involving languages. Parseltongue was a thing after all, maybe some type of magical polyglottery?

Thankfully none of the genealogies I needed to read through in order to research the likeliness of a genetic factor being involved in magical strength were in middle English.

I was learning quickly yes, but I was hardly fluent.

I had created a graph depicting the magical power of different magical families. Magical power as a quantifiable number I drew out of the professions and lives of the people scrutinized.

It wasn't an exact science, and I only managed to quantify the magical power of about a tenth of the people I read about.

The most useful parts were the notations about their achievements at Hogwarts really, like for example how some had been held back a year for being unable to cast a spell that had nothing to do with finesse, but simple might.

And how others had entered highly magic intensive professions after school, aurors, dragon tamers etc.

The picture being slowly painted supported blood supremacy all in all. I'd taken mostly magical families because firstly, those were the ones I actually had books on. And secondly, the reason why muggleborns might have been unable to get access to more demanding, and more respected jobs might have also been connected with their, well, lack of connections.

There was a small, but noticeable dip in a families magical strength once younger blood (sometimes even muggleborn blood) was introduced. There were also some rises of course, because magic was hardly something completely predictable, but on average the magical power of a line sunk more often than it rose when mixed with non-pure blood.

I'd even found something interesting pertaining Voldemort during my research.

There had once been a magical family, descended from Slytherin himself that had also lived in Hangleton, which was now known as little Hangleton, a place that had also housed the Gaunts a few decades ago. The magical family had declined since the time of the founders, some curses and unfortunate squib births ruining it completely. Only a name remained. Redel. The middle English word that had since then transformed into riddle. If true, Voldemort was a result of more than just one line of Slytherin squibs.

And wasn't that a funny thought.

Another interesting theory pertaining magical strength I'd found in the library was that a person's magical power and understanding was not insignificantly affected by the magic present in their environment as they grew up.

The ages one to seven not being as important as the ages seven to fourteen also explained why muggleborns were not completely left behind. They did after all attend Hogwarts from eleven onwards and the osmosis effect seemed to rise exponentially until one reached fourteen. Which was also the age the magical growth usually ended completely. The seven years years from fourteen to 21 were used to stabilize the magical connection and heighten its efficiency.

Three phases that lasted seven years, it was unclear what the difference between the first and second phase were though.

It was a fun theory, there definitely seemed to be a correlation between grades achieved at Hogwarts and the magic present in the child's home. It was hard to test the theory on muggleborns though, since they never had the chance to grow up in a magic rich environment in the first place and it was quite hard to find them before the age of eleven.

Even in muggles, environment usually only made up about 20% of achieved potential, the rest being genetics. Sure magic was a different beast entirely, but it definitely had some basis in genetics and the correlation shouldn't be discarded.

All in all I didn't trust the environmental theory entirely, but neither did I distrust it enough to discard it, it wasn't like having your surroundings being magical was harmful.

The theory did make me think on how soon I could reach out to Hermione though.

She was very much a main character in the original books, that in addition to her being hailed as the smartest witch of her age definitely made her something I wanted to acquire.

Maybe some of her plot armour would rub off on me. I even had an interesting Idea I would bring up to my family in the near future that would justify a friendship between us.

But that would have to wait until I got into a position where I could make the proposal appear organic. Some finer tuned manipulations would need to find place first.

For now all I could do was become what was expected of me, namely a magical powerhouse and a political mastermind, when that became established in the mind of my family, I could start making bigger changes.

A plan started to crystallize in my mind.

* * *

 **I seem to be really fixated on Hermione, but she is meant to become the second main character so whatever.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Political shitposting incoming.**

 **Chapter 8**

* * *

"The ministry is trying to push its boundaries again, this time it's on a ban of more potent explosive spells." Lucius said tiredly from his seat next to mine in grandfather's study.

"Not unexpected, they haven't done much in the last year, they'll be needing an excuse to pay their bureaucrats to push around some papers soon unless they want to let some of them go." Grandfather said from his spot behind the desk.

"We can make the new law change largely irrelevant by limiting the ban to some rather outdated spells, but we would be wearing ourselves thin." Lucius said dully, "it seems like a diversion, we're in the minority in the Wizengamot at the moment, they want to let us tire ourselves out on a certain issue and then be too exhausted for a truly important one coming up."

Father's slump was rather uncouth, although it was pleasing to see him display vulnerability in the presence of family. It did offer a certain dichotomy to the very tastefully decorated room we were inhabiting..

On the issue of magic being banned though...

"I hope I won't embarrass myself too much, but I feel like I have something to interject with." I said, I'd started displaying a more complex speech pattern ever since my tutoring had started. Becoming a respected heir and having a say in Malfoy political manners would be a great step forward.

"Would it really trouble us much if any particular piece of magic was banned? We already possess books and knowledge on it, they would become illegal and we would have to hide them, but the greatest victims of the ban on magic would be muggleborns wouldn't they? The spells would be taken off of Hogwarts' curriculum and out of legal circulation as well, making it harder for them to learn them."

Grandfather raised an eyebrow at me and Lucius regained his composure.

I continued, "we're in the minority, for the moment at least, we can't just defend brashly against any and all attacks. We would be better served if we redirected them instead, pervert the changes the Whigs are trying to push through until they become unrecognisable."

"The more we have to hide, the more likely it becomes for it to be discovered though." Grandfather brought up.

"Why can't we just build a library outside of our grounds and put it under fidelius?" I retorted.

"Good point, although none of us can cast the spell." Grandfather conceded.

Lucius shook his head slowly, "Where would it end though? Disregarding the fact that doing so would act against our nature as wizards and turn everyone against us." He asked doubtfully.

I could feel a small fire igniting inside me..

"It would end when a seventh year just graduating from Hogwarts would be hailed as the next Merlin simply for managing to cast the levitation charm. It would end when the auror corps that tries to enforce their corruption onto the nobility of the magical world is unable to cast even the most basic shield charm and has to run everywhere due to apparition and brooms being illegal. It would end when only the rich and powerful families, us, would be capable of providing their children with an actual magical education by sending them abroad to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, where upon their return they would take the reins of the ministry in their hands, the people having long forgotten what an Imperius even is!" I snarled out, I had stood up sometime during my speech, so I collapsed back into my chair, slightly out of breath, to the wide eyes of my father and his father.

"That's something to think on." Lucius said hesitantly. "How exactly would we pervert the act though?" He asked, before promptly waving any answer off. "Yes, yes I can see it, instead of pushing against them on the ban of spells such as _crepitus maxima_ , we instead push with them, into the direction of even banning the largely harmless _bombarda_."

Let it not be said that Lucius was overly affected by his status as a person of blonde colouring.

"Definitely something to think on." Grandfather agreed.

-/-

My sorcery lessons with grandfather had been going quite well, he wasn't very capable himself, only being able to perform a weak wandless summoning charm, but he knew enough about the general topic of magic to guide me in my endeavours.

My own forays into telekinesis were going quite well, being able to summon small objects to me without fail after only a month or so of practice. Upon my first success my **fire sorcery** skill had dissipated, and it, along with my newly acquired summoning skill became sub-categories of **Sorcery**.

 **Sorcery**

 **The use of magical force without a conduit to create unnatural effects in the world.**

Suffice to say I spent a lot of time training that skill after I'd gotten it.

The stories my grandfather had told me of Grindelwald and his mastery of wandless magic served as a secondary fountain of motivation. Although the two skills weren't the same, wandless magic being the use of structured spells without a wand, and sorcery being willing changes into existence, the results were still similar enough. Similar enough for people to draw parallels between me and the most prolific western dark lord of our century if I ever showed off the skill to any great extent.

Something I had a, vested interest in, in specific circles the comparison would serve me quite well. Although I probably shouldn't show off in front of Dumbledore.

Well the other reason why I was so dead set on sorcery at the moment, truly so, I trained the skill no less than three hours everyday, was because I did not have access to a wand.

Something I needed to start my legilimency lessons, something I was also greatly interested in. Sadly all of the wands of our ancestors we had stored in our manor proved to be non-responsive.

That restriction on my learning would soon be lifted though, grandfather had spent the last month or so gathering a stupendous amount of wands for me to try out. One of them would have to resonate with me eventually.


	9. Chapter 9

**Check out my original works on RoyalRoad.**

 **Chapter 9**

* * *

After one of our lessons, which often devolved into political chatter, my grandfather bade me to follow him into one of the areas of the manor I was not allowed inside of.

Unsurprisingly the occasion was getting me a wand, although the sheer amount of wands present in the artefact room I was led into baffled me. There were dozens of them lining the walls in their cabinets, each lying upon a red velvety cushion.

I raised a brow at my grandfather, who looked slightly sheepish at the sheer opulence of the room. "I told a house-elf to display the wands for you, he seemed to have taken it overboard."

Probably Dobby, I had no issue interacting with house-elves in a respectable manner, although I focused on that particular elf because I knew him to be fanatic enough about his devotion to jump to his death in protection of those he considered worthy.

I went over to the nearest wand, a light brown one that was quite short, and picked it up.

Ah, so that's what wands were. They were resonators, the magical aura of their beastly component held in check by the wood surrounding it and trying to vibrate in tact with the connection wizards had for magic to allow for an amplification of the resulting spellwork.

The effect should also create a more harmonious and willing to subject itself to structure magic. A beautifully effective instrument, although this particular one was not for me. Its drum was unable to correctly provide a beat for my guitar, metaphorically speaking.

I waved it anyway, interested in what would result from the action.

Nothing apparently, the two wavelengths cancelling each other out in a, to my magical sense, jarring cacophony of noise. I cringed, waved of my grandfather who appeared worried at my instinctual response and went over to the next wand.

After picking it up, I determined that it was an even worse match than the last. And so it continued onwards, I found some that fit me well enough and some that didn't, being a perfectionist, I naturally wanted to try out all of them. The best one so far had been a yew wand with what I suspected to be a dragon heartstring or phoenix feather core, the resonation having wanted me to burn stuff down.

Of course I found my wand to be the last one in the row. Typical. It had quite a pleasing melody to it, weaving itself almost seamlessly into mine. I released the magic that wanted to spring forth at the ceiling. It was a rather unstructured mess that I did not quite know how to direct yet, but suffice to say I was quite impressed with the fact that our wooden ceiling suddenly started growing branches with needles on them. Then it erupted into blinding flames that reminded me more of a magnesium flare than fire, the ashes that feel down from the ceiling then started the process of branch growing all over again, this time on the floor. Then they erupted into flames again.

You get the idea.

The core couldn't have been anything but something from a phoenix, although I did not know what, the wand being of a more dubious origin meant it was possible for it to be a more illegal and fatal to the animal ingredient than the usual feather.

The wood was pine, I'd had a escritoire made out of the wood in my last life. Many days had been spent sitting behind it, enough for me it to be burned into my memory how the wood felt.

"Well, I have a wand now, although in hindsight, couldn't we have just gone to an overseas wandmaker under polyjuice?" I asked Abraxas and tore him away from the theatre of the repetitively reincarnating, in fire, branchwork on the floor.

"Better to leave no chances, you found a wand this way as well, it simply took longer." He said and shook his head.

"Do we know the origin of this wand, and should I take the second best fitting wand for secondary use?" Secondary wands were a thing right?

Abraxas smiled at me amused, "better not, wands are like lovers, you wouldn't want to sour the relationship by getting a mistress quite so openly. The wand I bought in an auction along with many others, a family from eastern Europe pawning off the possessions of a deceased relative who happened to be a wandmaker. Pine and phoenix ashes."

So my guesses had been correct, good to know. I glanced at the cyclic combustion happening out of the corner of my eyes. It didn't feel like it was running out of power anytime soon.

"What do we do about that thing?" I asked.

"No idea Draco, no idea."

-/-

We never did manage to dispel the reincarnating branch cursed flame phoenix thingy, but as shown before one could move the ashes and have the entire theatre move with them. So we simply locked the entire thing up in a glass aquarium and put it on display in the ball room of our manor.

It wasn't dark so we could afford to flaunt the undoubtedly interesting piece of magic, maybe it would even be something useful to study once I understood more of magic.


	10. Chapter 10

**Putting this out today since I won't have much time tomorrow, enjoy.**

 **Chapter 10**

My legilimency training having started now I gleefully watched as my days filled up with meaningful endeavours. It had taken me seven years, but I finally had a full schedule again.

Some physical activity upon waking up, parkour through our garden usually, my grandfather watching bemused from his own room where he was filling out paperwork. He was the only one who woke up earlier than me, but only in winter, since I liked to wake up with the sun.

Breakfast with my family sans Lucius, after having washed myself naturally, where I talked with mother and informed her of all the things I had planned for the day. Immediately after breakfast came sorcery training with Abraxas, followed by etiquette training with mother. Some free time which I used to read and then lunch. Then came legilimency training, done with that I then relaxed completely, for two hours or so.

Dinner was done with the whole family, after which we usually absconded into the head of families study to discuss politics, mother even joined in sometimes now that I had professed an interest in doing so as well.

Sometimes this routine was disrupted by the play dates with Vince and Greg, who I was trying to mould into minions worthy of a Malfoy, with varying results, but other than that I seldom allowed anything to disrupt my perfect little life. I only had so much time left until Hogwarts after all, where'd I'd have to sit in classes, with children, being taught the theoretical basics I already knew.

"Can one test out of classes in Hogwarts?" I asked suddenly, disrupting a conversation between Lucius and Abraxas about the possibility of introducing a mandatory wizarding tradition course for any muggleborn who wanted to visit Hogwarts. Something I'd manipulated into existence in their minds, but which they were discussing fairly ineffectually due to the sheer newness of the idea.

Grandfather shook his head, but the question had been more directed at Lucius, who had recently gotten onto the Hogwarts board of governors, and had probably studied the regulations of the school.

"You can take your O.W.L's through the ministry when you turn fourteen, which is the year before fourth year, and your N.E.W.T's when you turn sixteen. You cannot be made extempt from classes in Hogwarts unless specific requirements are met, none of which are advisable to display." Lucius droned out, as if he'd memorized it. Which he probably had.

"That's annoying, classes move along in accordance to its slowest member after all. I imagine that if such a thing were possible more purebloods than anyone else would actually be able to take the opportunity, although what they would do with the free time is up in the air, hopefully learn more magic so they can appeal for another exemption next year." Most children probably would not, but the motion would definitely free up more time for those dedicated students of magic that were going places, like me.

"The change is unlikely to go through anytime soon, despite how great the idea is in theory, it is still something that very clearly favours purebloods over mudbloods, it would become a thing of status to have one's child extempt from as many classes as possible by starting their education before Hogwarts. Something only possible for the more, talented magicals." Lucius said, almost diplomatically, only one derogatory slur in the paragraph, we were making progress. He looked at me expectantly and continued, "I imagine you have a solution." He drawled out to the chuckling of Abraxas, who was very used to my particular dialectic style of bringing up questions which I already had answers for.

I leaned forward excitedly. "This actually synergizes greatly with the issue with the issue of instilling wizarding values into muggleborns before they enter our society." Something that would slow the decay of traditions, giving us more time to turn the rudder. "People won't just act because its theoretically sound, they need an example, and Dumbledore would probably be whistling a completely different tune if the student the board was seeking an exemption from classes for was muggleborn. We can even use the opportunity to turn more respectable in the eyes of the masses if we ever choose to reveal our involvement."

Abraxas and Lucius exchanged a look, both raised their eyebrows. One would think they would have gotten used to it by now.

Abraxas spoke, "so, teach a muggleborn wizarding culture and a subject to a first year exam level, have that muggleborn excel and convince the people in the Wizengamot and on the board of governors of the necessity of the respectable changes we want to implement. Make the exemption the muggleborn receives a stepping stone for having yourself also test out of some classes you would rather not go to."

"I was thinking of Astronomy, its rote-memorization work, its the class I want to extempt myself most from and its the class the school is most likely to issue and exemption on." I added.

"It's a good plan and all," Lucius drawled out, "but where in the seven hells will you find a mudblood capable of all that?"

"I don't think that is going to be a very large issue in the grand scheme of things," I said with a grin and leaned back, "actually, I think I have just the person."

My smugness permeated the room, it experienced a positive feedback loop once meeting up with the smug auras of my father and his father, turning up the crank on the atmosphere to a point where a non-Malfoy probably would have suffocated. I wished I had a glass of red wine in my hand, just to complete the image.

* * *

 **What a plan, will it work though? Find out on the next episode of "Me trying to figure out how politics work so I can write a semi-relatable story involving them"**

 **End my suffering.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Been busy as hell writing a 15-page essay about how artificial intelligence has affected chess and its player base since the inception of chess programms. I only have six pages and have to write nine more in the next three days. If anyone has any good literature or articles about the topic please message me. I'm dying.**

 **Managed to write this anyway though, tell me if the quality suffered.**

 **Chapter 11**

* * *

I looked at the sheets of paper scattered on the desk before me, tapping on the armrest of my miniature armchair. The dossier was composed of information that anyone could get with some snooping around, it was just the person the dossier was about that was extraordinary, lets say, magical.

I'd given Dobby clear parameters, the person he needed to find had to be no younger than me, muggleborn, isolated in their social environment while achieving good grades in school, which while not really sign of intelligence was still better than nothing and a family that wasn't too rich.

Naturally I'd been brought documents pertaining a certain Hermione Granger by the elf, documents I'd already forwarded to my family. Documents that my grandfather was acting upon this very moment, he hadn't allowed me to go with him in the first meeting, which was understandable, if not disappointing. He trusted my intellect, but I'd yet to prove that my social competence stretched out far enough to manipulate two parents into selling away their daughter, without the use of mind magic naturally. I'd been confused by that, didn't magicals usually rely on their, you know, magic. But after grandfather explained to me that something like this was best done without traces, since the ministry would surely snoop around, I graciously bowed down out to his wisdom.

So here I was, fretting my time away while my grandfather was trying to convince two muggles that he was but a concerned wizard of some renown who had grown so appalled by the lack of education young muggleborns received before being thrown head first into a different culture, that he started personally doing something against it. Namely by creating an example on how thorough immigration could be if the proper values were instilled in the person beforehand.

Normally I would try to spend my time usefully no matter the circumstances, but I was simply too excited, odd certainly, I'd done much riskier things in the past, but the possibilities that were flitting through my head... All the things I could do. I'd never had children in my past life, but if my grandfather succeeded, I would get one, certainly not in a way that most people usually got children but still. A life, mine for the shaping, through manipulations and more, brute force approaches.

Grandfather had discussed his strategy with me, how he was going into the meeting and what he was trying to achieve, so I wasn't as much nervous about the results of the meeting, but more about the entire thing in general.

I wondered how much longer this was going to take, it had already been almost two hours. As if to mock all pieces of contemporary literature the moment that thought formed in my head was not indeed the moment that grandfather walked into my room whistling a jaunty tune.

That moment instead came about half an hour later, when I was already half ready to flee from our mansion into greater Wiltshire and get to London with a bus. Well, grandfather wasn't whistling, but still. It was basically the scene I'd imagined in my head.

Only that he just stood there with a contemplative look on his face after having entered my room.

"Well, how did it go?" I asked, annoyed, at which he shook himself and adapted his face into a restrained smile.

"It went quite well, I was just, thinking about the muggles, they were dumb yes, no idea about politics and rhetoric, but the average wizarding family isn't much smarter either." Grandfather said.

That was, interesting, for all how blood supremacy was a big part of my family I'd never really considered the fact that nobody in my family had ever actually interacted at length with a muggle before. While empathy was not really something I wished to be evoked in my grandfather on the morn of such a meeting, the empathy could be moulded into into interest over time, and that interest could eventually lead to grandfather finding the information that would guide him into sharing my views about the danger that muggles inadvertently posed to our society.

And I had started thinking about it as our society hadn't I. A society that my previous one was very much a danger too, how, dichotomous. Ironic almost.

Grandfather continued with his report, regardless of my thoughts, so I listened.

"I managed to convince them that I was actually a wizard and not some lunatic fairly easily, transfiguration is quite intimidating to muggles, just as you'd imagine. And while the girl was personally despondent about the fact that she would not start her education into wand waving anytime soon, she seemed quite enthusiastic about the books I promised to bring her tomorrow."

Maybe I'd underestimated the empathy Abraxas felt for the muggles, he didn't even mention them beyond their existence as an access to their daughter.

"The parents?" I asked, receiving a raised eyebrow.

"They were slightly suspicious, but completely willing to go along with the plan I proposed. Bringing over some books and then popping by every few months to answer any specific questions that those did not answer."

I couldn't help but nod, yes, it was better to approach this in steps. First, literature on mundane aspects of the wizarding world and then actual lengthy interactions with magicals. Maybe a magical toy to remind them of the world they could be apart of in a few years.

"Slip a mention of occlumency into one of the books, they'll grow scared and ask for their daughter to learn it. Act as if you're reluctant but willing to let their daughter meet with me to teach her how to protect her mind, they'll be less suspicious of a young boy teaching her." I said, forgetting to filter my words.

"I apologize, I worded that poorly." I said immediately after, but to my surprise Abraxas did not at all grow angry at the impertinence of his young grandson, but simply nodded.

"A good idea, the opportunity to shape the girls mind and the understanding of her current psyche will help you in communicating to her, her, rightful place." Grandfather said with a grin, "the means necessary to avoid such a thing being discovered will be worth more reliably attaining the witch as an asset, as long as she shows even a modicum of potential."

"Do you think she has potential?" I asked. Trying to not let him see how interested I was in the answer. By the widening grin on my grandfathers place I had not succeeded, but he answered nonchalantly anyway.

"Above average from what I managed to ascertain."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

I did not in any way cherish the thought of being outshone by a child in any way whatsoever, so I started my private studying of the subject of astronomy on the same day that Hermione received her books on it. It would also help me with my plan of grading the essays that she would eventually accumulate and send to grandfather for correction. She was my project, no matter how much the entire thing leaned on other people, mine, mine, mine.

It was a petulant stance from my side, but I had always hated sharing the toys that I was really interested in. Growing up a single child twice probably had not helped overly much in that regard. Thankfully grandfather found my possessiveness amusing rather than annoying, he had the power to make my life fairly difficult if he really tried after all.

In a private talk he had admitted to me that he found my possessiveness, greed you could say even, rather endearing, it being the only negative emotional trait I seemed to have. It offset some of the worries that he had of me being too perfect he had said. After some discussion I found out he shared my view of perfection being a rather worthless goal, it being the last one one would ever achieve.

It had been a nice talk, something I would have more chances to repeat in the future, Abraxas having started slowly shedding the burdens of headship onto father. The transition would be complete in a year or so, after that the man planned to spend as much time with me as possible before I was off to Hogwarts, and during my stay there do some research into the deeper aspects of magic.

Apparently his study into the fidelius charm that our family wanted to apply to a library to make it truly hidden, had awoken in him an interest into the deeper aspects of magic. Aspects he would find ample time to explore in his retirement.

I wished him good luck and gods' speed, not being advanced enough to accompany him in the journey he was setting off for. I wished I could have helped him more than simply pointing him into the direction of rituals and sympathetic connection, but I myself was still only entering the world of the arcane. I might have for all purposes been a sorcerer whose domains stretched out into the ability to control heat and minor telekinesis. With a dash of the mind arts if I used a wand, but I was still very much infantile in my understanding of the phenomenon that was magic.

Which, did not make me as frustrated as I'd expected it would make me. It might come as a surprise to anyone who's ever had the blessing of visiting a conventional school, where one learned how to algebraically calculate the distance between stars and the reaction of a chemical nobody used, but learning stuff, that was directly usable, was actually fun.

I'd learned a lot of things in my last life, more in the realms of physics and chemistry than anything else, but magic was the most fun I've ever had in learning something in a structured manner.

It was I concluded as I created a small heat explosion to punctuate my words directed at the audience, quite literally, a blast and a half. I chuckled at my superior sense of humour and concentrated back on the actual task at hand, namely visiting my mother for legilimency practice.

Grandfather had recently decided that I was stagnating slightly in my attempts to read his mind, and that I would be better served if I attempted my hand in breaching barriers of the more direct kind. Malfoy occlumency consisted of being a slippery little shit, throwing false memories and dodging probes more than actual direct confrontation.

Thankfully my mother had been educated in a rather different kind of occlumency, namely that of the Blacks, who had a more, direct approach to defending ones mind, or so I'd read. "Greetings mother." I said with a nod as I entered her rooms, ever the busy bee she also had quite a full schedule most of the time, conspiring with other high-born ladies on who was to be next on the gossip chopping block. Her methods reminded me slightly of the subversion tactics that KGB agents would use when trying to destroy the moral of a country they'd infiltrated, just more, person specific.

Not that her rather intimidating modus operandi stopped me from returning her smile as she glanced up from a book she'd been reading and running into her arms for a hug.

No matter what faults Narcissa bore, she was without a doubt a mother who would do anything for her child. She did not simply say that she loved me, she showed it to me as well. Hiring the best tutors for the subjects that I wanted to learn, and if unavailable making time out of her day to teach me herself.

With her I learned wizarding customs, traditional dancing and some neurolinguistic programming, which others, and she herself would know by the name of verbal manipulation. Women were indeed gifted in manipulating others, I was glad to have such a competent teacher.

She pulled me onto her lap after the brief hug we shared and asked me how my day was, a typical question really, and one that was quite hard to answer since my days usually followed a very strict routine. That I hated interrupting at all costs. But I told her anyway. I'd gotten slightly more ahead in astronomy, sorcery and other miscellaneous subjects such as philosophy and wizarding history. I'd also almost tripped over one of our estate flamingos on my morning run and had barely avoided falling into the pond, curse this growing body, afterwards I'd had grandfather laugh at me, which I'd gotten back at him for at breakfast when I stealthily drew all the heat from his coffee as he was drinking it, turning it into a sludgy mess, and him into a sputtering one.

We chatted a bit, mother then telling me about her day and so on, before we eventually got into the actual meat of the meeting, namely the legilimency.

Suffice to say her mind was much more easily pinned down than grandfathers, but was also more aggressive, a slight headache building itself up behind my brows by the end of the session.

It was worth it though, I think I progressed a lot.

* * *

 **I wonder when we'll actually get to Hogwarts.**


	13. Chapter 13

**I still plan on being on Haitus until the first of June, but I just started writing randomly today and couldn't stop until I had written an entire chapter. So here it is, style might be different since I haven't touched english or this story in a while, have been spending most of my time on German since that is the language my finals will be held in.**

 **Unedited (looking for a new beta by the way, preferrential treatment for discord users.)**

 **Edited by myself on 18.04.2019: people rightly claimed that Snape does not grin, I agree and have therefore changed it. Some other things got stylistically changed as well.**

 **Chapter 13**

* * *

The silence that filled the room, as my godfather Severus Snape and I analysed each other, was, slightly uncomfortable. Lucius was also present, but he seemed unwilling to actually do something about it, actually seeming quite amused at our silent exchange of stares.

It might have been odd for some people that I was only meeting my godfather at the age of seven, but the circumstances surrounding our relationship were quite complicated. He'd been named my godfather by Lucius when Voldemort had still been alive and on his way to victory, suffice to say that was not the case anymore, and they'd seldom had the opportunity to meet up in the years after his fall, the avenue of death eater meetings not being available anymore.

Another problem was the fact that Snape had been proclaimed as a spy from Dumbledore for all to hear, which was a much more glowing recommendation of his innocence than our family's claim of being imperiused. People would have asked questions had we been seen together, Dumbledore's people wondering why their spy was still meeting up with death eaters after Voldemort's fall, and the former death eaters asking why one of theirs was meeting up with a known spy.

I didn't actually know how the situation had changed, why was it acceptable to meet up now, and not before?

"So, do you like potions?" Snape asked stoically, with a rather forced expression on his face. I saw Lucius holding in a laugh in the background.

"I've looked into the subject before, it being one I have actual access to, and I understand the necessity of being knowledgeable in it, family business and all, but I must admit I find myself leaning towards more flashy displays of magic at the moment. Potions are, time-consuming." I said diplomatically, admitting to finding the subject important, but personally uninteresting. I wanted to test the relationship I had with my godfather. While the man had been ready to swear an unbreakable vow on protecting me in the future, if that had been due to him taking his status as my godfather seriously, or if the other Draco had done something to personally endear himself to the man was up in the air.

Snape raised an eyebrow at my father, probably at my vocabulary, and upon receiving a smug look in return queried further. "Potions do not offer the instant gratification that other magical arts do, that is indeed true, but you just admitted to understanding their importance, and the fact that they are the magical art you have the most access to would make one assume you would develop an interest in it." He said.

I grinned at him and flourished my hand. "Ah it seems we are communicating under a certain misconception, for it is true that potion making is the art I have the most access to in form of books, it being deemed non-dangerous enough for me to take a peek at, I have a much more direct forms of magic available to me." I flared my magic above the top of my outstretched palm and created a fireball roughly the size of my head, and started making twist into itself, displaying different shapes, triangle, circle and line culminating into the symbol of the hallows. Then into the Malfoy family crest, a stylised M drawn on a shield stabbed through with spears and beholden between two winding dragons. "One could say, it is, at the palm of my hands."

I imagined it was not often that one witnessed Severus Snape gobsmacked, be it from my display of magic or from my sense of humour. Lucius naturally had to ruin it by starting to giggle, raising the trust I had in Snape a notch higher, displays of emotions like that were reserved for family.

My new fold trust in my godfather led me to reveal another reason why I did not overly like potions, that I had held back previously, not wanting to ruin my relationship with the man.

"The problem I have with potions is also the fact that no matter how much work I put into it, I would still purchase most potions I needed, money after all, is used to acquire objects and services so one doesn't have to do everything personally. I do not mean to offend or insinuate anything with this statement, just explaining why it would would be inefficient for me personally to pursue a mastery of the subject." I ended placatingly.

Snape had lost his surprise at my supreme display of humour halfway through my explanation and seemed to take it, surprisingly well, or maybe I was just garbage at reading the mood, who knew. His next words relaxed me, I had not committed a faux pas.

"You are correct to assume that the art of potion making would be unbeneficial for you, unless you reached such heights that there would be no one left, from whom you could buy the potions you wanted from." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, losing some of his rigid posture.

I waited until he reached out to take a sip of his tea. "We must also consider the distribution of labour, it would be unneeded for me to become a potion master, since no matter the effort I put into it, I would never be capable of surpassing a certain potion master already associated with our family anyway." The way to a man's heart? Through flattery, even easier if the praise was well earned.

Snape did not in fact spit out his tea as I had intended with my timing, but his hand did tremble a bit and he showed a slight smile upon putting down his cup.

"Careful there Draco," He said, addressing me by my name for the first time, "if you couple your intelligence with a sufficient competence in my subject when you find your way to Hogwarts, I might actually openly admitting of liking you." He said teasingly. "A most perilous attempt on your social standing at Hogwarts, I am rather despised after all." He finished with a smile.

"One should not lower one's competence for the opinion of sheep, but enough about that." I said, making a waving gesture in the air, as if to dispel the previous conversation. "Finding myself in the presence of a bona fide potions master I cannot help but seek clarification on certain matters. Is it true for example that potions can be considered a ritual instead of a science depending on what school of thought one applies to it? None of my books seem to be capable of agreeing on that particular manner."

A complicated question with many facets, delving into the very origins of rituals and the effects certain magical ingredients have.

Snape's lips twitched slightly, one could almost liken it to a grin. If you squinted hard enough of course.


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm back, just finished my finals today.**

 **I decided to make a discord server during my absence, my editor filed for a divorce so I need people to look over the stuff I'm posting. If you join the discord server you will have access to chapters a few days earlier than they will be posted here, in the form of a google doc with comments enabled. Before posting the chapters on RoyalRoad I will then go over comments and correct everything. You can find the link on the top most of my profile page.**

 **Chapter 14**

* * *

The meeting with godfather had been very enlightening in regards to my potions knowledge. I'd learned that potions as a subject was a hodge podge of ritualistic and scientific concepts because the discipline had started by throwing together ingredients of which one only assumed the properties of, the innate magic of a wizard then made it so in some cases, and then progressed further when one started actually finding out the properties and reactions of magical ingredients independent of the often finicky belief magic.

The result was now the stark divide between ingredients like a bezoar stone that actually had detoxifying properties and ingredients such as treant bark, which was actually just normal bark, but had a calming effect inscribed on it by the wizard using it in the potion for long enough to bind itself into the whole.

All in all the entire conversation had made me even more sure of my decision to never seek out knowledge in the potions field that was not required of me. I'd even go as far as to say it was time to groom another potions master with close ties to my family so that I would never have too.

Despite my growing distaste for the subject I had scheduled further meetings with godfather, under the supervision of Lucius, so I may learn more about the art, in a strictly Hogwarts curriculum manner, and to spend more time with my godfather. He would be a useful ally and I gleefully admitted that I liked his sense of humour, it was just as acidic as some of his brews.

After receiving my first astrology essay from Hermione I was also capable of commiserating with his pain, even if the reasons behind our suffering differed slightly. The essays he had to correct were, I imagined, often factually wrong, or grammatically incorrect. The one essay I had, was, three times the required length. I'd asked for three feet, not my favourite metric but I would be forced to adapt soon anyway, and had received a nine foot monstrosity of stapled together muggle paper. In hindsight I should have specified that it should have been written on parchment, and maybe even told grandfather to supply some considering I was unsure if the average muggle even had access to parchment.

I jotted it down in my reminder notebook, along with the reminder to provide the girl with some quills and ink pots, she'd written the entire thing with a fountain pen, which was perfectly readable, but she would be better served to adjust as early as possible. Writing with quills also had the often ignored benefit of limbering up your wrist.

The essay confronted me with a dilemma, should I nip the habit of writing much too long essays at its bud, or should I just correct it as it was. It was, factually correct, with painfully fastidious grammar, I imagined that her parents had helped, wanting to leave a good impression on the kind old wizard that my grandfather had given himself to be.

I sighed and twitched with my finger, cutting off the essay at 4 feet. Going 1/3 over the required length was within the bounds of acceptability, anything beyond that was not. Writing that down, with the remark that presenting the necessary information in a quick and efficient manner was also a skill to be trained, I also gave it a big red D, for dreadful, since with more than half the content now missing the entire thing was fairly non-cohesive.

Getting up I made my way to the owlery, and once there sent the corrected essay along with the prompt for the next one. I could have just sent a house-elf to do it, but the man who speaks the sentence must swing the sword. The sword in this case being an owl telling an eight year old girl that her essay, while technically correct, was not within the bounds of the task, and therefore, mind the language, shit. I groaned at the disgusting sentimentality creeping into my brain, its wasn't my fault the girls feelings would be hurt, the information requested in the blasted thing could have easily been compressed to two feet.

Grumbling along the way to grandfather's study, plagued by a melancholy feeling gripping my heart, I finally snapped and smacked my head against the manner walls to exorcise the guilt. That done with I walked past a house-elf that was looking at me oddly and knocked on the study door.

An "enter!" resounded from within and thus I did, glancing with boredom at the reincarnating bunch of branches held within a glass display case and then focusing my attention on grandfather, who was just done putting away some papers.

"Ah yes, Draco, what can I do for you?"

"It just came to me that it would be helpful for the muggleborns education if I were to send her some rolls of parchment, quills and ink pots. I just received an essay of stapled together muggle paper." I said, watching as grandfather sneered at the idea of muggle paper, sadly he was not yet converted.

"And?" He asked causing me to blink at him in surprise.

"Well, I was hoping you could send a house-elf to buy some and send it to them, or just pop by their house and leave it on their table." I said, unsure of grandfather's mood, he wasn't usually so short with me.

"Why can't you do that yourself hmm?" Grandfather asked, smiling at me.

"Because I don't have any mone-?" I cut off, a thought entering my head. I called for Dobby, the elf appearing in a crack wringing his hands and asking what he could do for young master.

"Buy a few rolls of parchment, quills ink pots and drop them off on the Granger's kitchen table without being noticed please." I quickly ordered, at which the elf disappeared, and reappeared about seven minutes later.

A sound managed to break through my stupor, it was grandfather laughing.

I huffed at him, "I cannot believe the irresponsibility of giving a seven year old access to the family bank account."

He started laughing harder.


	15. Chapter 15

**I decided to make a discord server during my absence, my editor filed for a divorce so I need people to look over the stuff I'm posting. If you join the discord server you will have access to chapters a few days earlier than they will be posted here, in the form of a google doc with comments enabled. You can find the link on the top most of my profile page. Can't post it here since Fanfiction deletes links.**

 **Also, check out my original story "Living a Long Life as a Legend" on RoyalRoad**

 **chapter 15**

* * *

Having access to money did not truly change as much as one would normally think, mostly due to the fact of how rich my family was.

We already had everything we needed, and if we were to ever even start coming close to emptying our supply closet, however unlikely that was, our house-elves would replace it immediately.

The only reason I hadn't sent Hermione some writing supplies from my own stock was my frugal nature. What I had was expensive, therefore it was better to go through a hoop or two and send Hermione something not of my own stock.

 _True wealth was as always, defined not by how much one had, but by how little one needed._ I pondered as I spread caviar over bread that was freshly imported from the most expensive magical bakery of Paris, and buttered with the produce of the flying bovines that inhabit the Swiss Alps.

One would normally think that it was a stupid idea to let house-elves, a species not known for their double-digit IQ, have any sort of access to our accounts. It wasn't, of course. Just as most popular practices in the wizarding world often weren't.

The house-elves worked under strict limits set by my mother, the one making most of the smaller financial decisions of our household. These limits defined exactly how much they could extract from our Gringotts vault, and what exactly they could spend it on. Which naturally also limited my own access since the only way I could get to the gold was through a house-elf.

Another thing of note was that Dobby, the most well known house-elf in the books, was very much an outlier amongst his species.

Simply said, the little guy was slightly more on the insane side of the spectrum than was strictly safe for everyone in his surroundings, especially when one considered his magical prowess.

He was also devoted to me. Me having foreknowledge of his willingness to die for people he considered worthy beforehand and therefore focusing most of my efforts on him.

Not that I treated any of our elves badly, my family in the other hand. Well, their attitudes had become slightly milder in the past few years once they'd began taking notice of the preferential treatment I received from our elves.

Monkey see monkey do and all that jazz.

Or, in the case of Hermione, monkey be told and monkey do. Her newest essay was still too long, but acceptable considering it was only 1/3 over the required length.

Upon seeing that particular gesture from her side, I'd decided that I'd simply request a shorter essay than I would normally request. So that her then going a third over it would churn out a normal sized essay.

All in all, things were going great. Grandfather had recently informed us that he was close to mastering the fidelius charm. Lucius had told me that he'd found someone willing to sell a pensieve, a status symbol that I'd hinted at him was sorely missing from our collection. Mother, on the other hand, had managed to acquire a memory of the duel between Grindelwald and Dumbledore from her very old and very much dying, relatives.

For the duels between Voldemort and Dumbledore, I'd simply ask my direct family.

In the beginning stages of learning magical combat I would profit much more from watching masters weave their craft than I would from walking the path myself.

I only hoped that my magical sense would work inside the memory, did the person who donated it also have to have ability? I couldn't even remember the last time I'd gazed upon magic only with my eyes, so I hoped not.

The only unpleasantness marring my otherwise perfect life was my soon to occur introduction to higher society. I was by no means a recluse, my family often had visitors, important visitors, with whom I traded a few polite words when prodded to. They sometimes even brought their own children, unfortunately.

I'd had the pleasure of meeting almost all the people with whom I would share the year with if I were to be sorted into Slytherin. The glaring exceptions being Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis. One was the son of a woman who'd killed and fleeced five husbands by now and the other a half-blood, so it was expected that I'd yet to meet their acquaintance.

In hindsight all the interactions might have been a test from my parents to determine if I was ready to be taken out further into the wide, wide world. It was seen as a great embarrassment if the child of a family being introduced at a formal function behaved inadequately, just as it was seen as a sign of great prestige if the child comported itself acceptably.

More was not expected. Naturally I would have to go beyond mere acceptability. I was an adult and therefore quite prodigious in my composure, surely I would be able to impress a bunch of dignitaries, Ministry officials and lords, who were most likely very dubious of a child being introduced so early. Usually one waited until they were at least eleven after all.

Despite the fact that I did not look forward to the task, I had to admit that I cherished the opportunity to help my family on the broader political stage. The few appearances that I would have to go through yearly, if this introduction started a tradition of getting dragged along to events, would cut into my learning time.

But I was also fairly certain, that after this, if I proved myself to be reliable, I would gain access to our entire library. Well, at least more access than I had now. Not that I was complaining, history was interesting and all, I'd just much rather be reading about spell creation.

All in all, other people were a waste of my time, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make as long as the rewards were numerous enough. Helping and making my family happy naturally being included as a sub-category of reward.

I really needed a sibling who could inherit all this political crap instead of me when Lucius grew too old, the procurement of such a being was being greatly hindered by the Malfoy family curse that prevented them from having more than one child, something to look into.

Weren't we always one death away from line extinction the way it worked? Or would a dead child free up the parents to have another?

Maybe I could just get a wife that would deal with all the nonsense. Political power, as in, the power to make other people do what you wanted, was worth the hassle in a world where magic didn't exist.

But in my situation, where I just spent time training my magical abilities, growing more and more capable of eventually facing off against a squad of aurors on my lonesome, political power became more of a drag. The time spent acquiring it was also less fun than time spent learning magic.


	16. Chapter 16

**I have a discord server link in my profile, join to gain access to chapters a bit earlier**

 **Chapter 16**

* * *

I coolly gazed down onto the grounds of the Parkinson family from my vantage point on a balcony while swirling the wine in my hand in a counterclockwise direction and occasionally taking a sip of the fine vintage.

The soft noise of classical music drifted over from the brightly lit room behind me, bringing with it the trill of conversations and a tantalizing smell of apples.

I'd just absconded from the hustle and bustle of officials and lords who I'd collectively trounced in any topic they deemed worthy enough to bring up. Now I was here, waiting for my dance partner to grace me with her presence. I felt someone approach from behind, I did not turn around, slightly leaning into the hand that laid itself on my shoulder. I grasped it with my own and kissed it, making the woman behind me exclaim at the sheer scandal. "Master Draco!"

But the voice was not that of a beautiful woman, it was not even the voice of a human. I opened my eyes, seeing that I was lying in my bed, drooling onto the hand of Twenkle, the house-elf I'd tasked with waking me up every morning. I could have asked Dobby, but his countenance was not necessarily something I wanted to witness at the start of every day.

Twenkle and I stared into each other's eyes for a bit, before both averting our gaze, I stood up and started making my way into the bathroom, leaving the house-elf it's job fulfilled with a simple comment.

"That never happened."

"What never happens?"

Good man.

I let my wand shoot out of my wrist holster, that yes, I also wore while I slept, into my hand and started my morning routine. It would probably surprise everyone, that the first book of spells I'd bothered learning was composed entirely of vanity, household, and personal hygiene spells.

Time was money, and with these spells I saved myself around half an hour everyday. A simple flick directed at my mouth, along with a drawled out incantation cleaned my entire mouth and massaged my gums at the same time. Another spell directed at my body had the same effect as if I'd taken an hour long bath, and one last spell directed at my hair combed the entirety of it in under two seconds.

I pulled a pose and smiled charmingly at my reflection in the mirror, almost blinding myself with the shine of my teeth. Say what you want about the validity of Lockhart's adventure books, but the man knew his way around household charms.

I cast some more spells on the clothes that I would be wearing today as I garbed myself, temperature regulation, softness spells etc. There wasn't anything particularly special about the clothes despite them being the ones I would be formally introduced in. Simple undergarments with a robe in dark grey, and a wizard's hat that switched between the colours emerald green and wine red. It was a common misconception that every single article of clothing could be enchanted with numerous effects. Something as fragile as an article of clothing could hold at most two, and even that was inadvisable, therefore it was necessary for the gentle-wizard to be knowledgeable of the charms that turned his second skin from comfortable into downright orgasmic.

No really, wearing clothes which you controlled every aspect of to your own specifications was the greatest feeling ever. I luxuriated in it for a few minutes, losing some of the time I'd gained with learning all these hygiene spells, before starting to mentally prepare myself for the day ahead.

My family would be leaving soon, which ran completely counter to my own expectations of how I'd be introduced to society. Expectations that I'd just lived out in my dreams since I wouldn't be able to do so in real life. I had been expecting balls stretching out far after midnight, hundreds of people who made up the crème de la crème of magical society gathered in one estate, chocolate fountains, orchestras, dancing and all that jazz.

What I'd gotten instead was a morning fundraiser at St Mungo's, where my father planned to donate a hefty sum.

In hindsight I was quite grateful, starting small and all. It would have also been fairly foolish for my parents to plan my exposure to happen amongst too many people, and foolish they were anything but. Well, at least in political manners. They were still human after all.

I made my way downstairs, I'd woken up later than I usually did, as I wanted to be as well rested as I could possibly be for the social function, and had not been planning on undergoing my usual morning tribulations of athletics and magic practice.

After breakfast I was promptly bustled off to our houses apparition point by my beautifully dressed mother and classily dressed father, there were not many words spoken, we'd already discussed everything beforehand, Grandfather was also not joining us as he'd recently abdicated all of his responsibilities to Lucius and would henceforth serve as more of an advisor. Once we'd reached the apparition point Mother gently pressed my shoulder, our signal, and I was promptly assailed by the feeling of being squeezed through a tube.

Which was my own decision, so I couldn't really complain. I came out smiling despite the unpleasantness of the sensation. We would have normally traveled by floo, but I found it a better exercise of a fairly complicated piece of magic for my parents if we apparated instead. They used magic much too little in their day to day lives in my opinion. Not even starting on their almost complete disinterest in learning new magicks.

We'd apparated straight to St Mungo's apparition point and after a few seconds, continued our journey to the small green pasture in the hospital's backyard that patients weren't allowed into, and that was being used to host the fundraiser today.

I received a questioning gaze from mother as we neared the gathering, we could already hear the sound of glass clinking and light chatter. I nodded at her unspoken question. I remembered my part.

Greet everyone politely and go join the children's corner as soon as possible.

Not the political manoeuvre I'd been expecting to complete today, but as my parents had reminded me when I expressed my doubts about the plan, I was seven years old. People would be absolutely smitten with me as long as I showed myself as a polite, well-spoken young boy who was capable of interacting with others his age in a respectable manner.

We entered the grounds, and I instantly noticed a certain ever shifting magical signature, and upon looking there, found a young teenager with pink hair. Ah yes, it was summer, and Andromeda Tonks worked at St Mungo's as a healer? I thought at least.

Well, at least I now had a way to entertain myself after I'd greeted everyone I needed to greet. Time to meet my cousin.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 (interlude Tonks)**

 **I have a discord server, find link in profile.**

 **Shoutout to everyone from discord who helped with this.**

* * *

Tonks was bored, bored, bored, bored. Why did mom always have to drag her along to these boring St Mungo events when she was free for the summer? Rhetorical question, she knew why. It was because she was hoping that Tonks would suddenly develop a passion for healing instead of being an auror one day.

Why couldn't she see that aurors were much coole-, ermm, more important than healers. If the baddies never got to hurt anyone in the first place, then there would be no one who needed healing. Simple logic, something even her mom should be able to get but nooooooo. She had to drag her along to all these functions with snobby purebloods, and their snobby children who she couldn't hang out with, because they were so damn snobby.

That's why she was sitting alone in a corner, glowering at everyone, while the other teenagers gathered around in their small cliques probably discussing which muggleborn they should bully when they were back in school.

"Stupid purebloods, stupid fundraiser-." She grumbled before some slight sniffling next to her interrupted her private tirade. She wondered how someone had snuck up on her, she was an auror in training, that was illegal, before glancing around, trying to spot the source of the sniffling. Only to find herself confronted with some blonde kid, couldn't be older than eight, with tears in his eyes and rubbing the snot from his nose weakly muttering, "''M not stupid."

She swivelled her head around quickly, hoping that nobody had seen her making a child cry and sighed in relief upon noticing that nobody was paying attention to her. She turned back to the kid, spitting some purple hair out of her mouth, it had gotten there while she'd been frantically looking around. "Who called you stupid, you're not, and whoever says otherwise is gonna have to deal with me." She said, raising her fist and shaking it around threateningly.

The gesture made the kid stop crying at least, he looked at her in confusion instead, before saying, "but you called me stupid..." Before trailing off, and watching with a surprised face as Tonks changed her facial structure and hair colour on the spot.

"Some cute girl with pink hair said that, can't see her around right now, so her opinion must not matter much." She laid a hand on his shoulder, "but if she ever comes back, let me deal with her."

The kids eyes grew wide, and he formed an o with his mouth. "Wow, how'd you do that?" He asked with sparkles in his eyes. Literally.

Distraction was a success.

"Cuz I'm awesome like that." She said, turning up her nose.

The kid naturally started hopping around like mad, gripping his green pointy hat to his head so it wouldn't fly off, while alternating between whispering out 'how cool', and 'do it again'.

She obliged, basking in the happiness that the kid was now literally projecting out of his face, as her own underwent a multitude of changes. Long nose, short nose, pig nose, fat lips, thin lips fish lips, Dumbledore, Mcgonnagal, mom, dad. She started getting exhausted though, and had to stop her show. The kid didn't seem to mind, and his mood had definitely improved. She winced at the reminder that she'd made some random child cry, her housemates would be ashamed.

Why was the kid even here though? She'd never seen anyone below Hogwarts age in any of these functions.

"How come you're here kid?" She asked.

"I'm not a kid, I'm already seven!" The kid exclaimed at her question, scrunching up his face cutely and crossing his arms to stare at her standoffishly, in a cute manner.

"Ehhmm, okay, so what's your name, mine's Tonks." She queried further. Maybe he was the son of some healer who hadn't been able to arrange a babysitter, she might know who he was by his last name.

"I'm Draco, it's Latin for dragon!"." He said.

Alright that told her absolutely nothing, except that he probably wasn't some aristocrat son, they would have never introduced themselves without mentioning their last name.

"So what are you doing here Draco?" She asked again, hoping that he'd answer her question now that she wasn't calling him kid. She was actually starting to get sort of curious.

He looked at her like she was the seven year old. Which she wasn't mind you. She was fifteen! And answered with a straight face. "Attending the fundraiser, duh, you're not very smart are you?"

It took a moment to process what he'd just said, but when she did she immediately pounced, pulling him to the ground where they both rolled around as she tickled him. To his enjoyment obviously, or he wouldn't have been laughing that much. She was careful that she'd tackled him so they'd be behind a bench naturally, wouldn't do for anyone to think she was beating up some brat.

He was still giggling after she finished her tickle attack, whereas upon he just lay there on the ground, looking at the foliage above.

Tonks puffed out her chest, she was great with children.

But, what now? The fundraiser would still last for several more hours. She'd spent the last ten minutes having a surprising amount of fun with the kid, but she still had some dullness ahead of her.

"You bored as well squirt?" She asked turning to Draco. Who only nodded his head, having sat himself up. He didn't have any grass stains on him, curious. Must have been some swanky clothes he had on.

"How about I give you a tour of this place, my mom works here so I know it inside and out." She said, willing to do anything to escape the fundraiser, mom usually wouldn't let her leave, but babysitting some brat would be excuse enough right? He was a cute brat too. She kinda wished she had a little sibling at the moment, she could teach em all about the world.

Draco was putting on a thinking face. Cute, she thought as she watched him come up with an answer to her offer of a tour.

"My parents said I should go play with the other children. So I guess a tour would be ok as long as we played "I spy with my little eye" as we walked." He said after some deliberation.

That was some advanced twisting of words right there, impressive. She stood up and dusted herself off, well, grassed herself off, and offered the kid a hand which he took to also stand up.

"Alright, we can do that, tour'll take no more than an hour, so we'll be back here wayyyyyyy, before you actually have to be back." She said, while walking to the exit, Draco following behind her like a cute duckling.

She passed her mom, who gave her an incredulous look, and a grudging nod and some long haired blonde fop who seemed to exchange glances with Draco before turning away and shrugging.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 **The discord server (link in profile), you get one advance chapter in the form of a google doc, with comments enabled so you can help me bring a higher quality story to the table.**

 **Please Rate/Review if you haven't yet.**

 **I won't be updating this regularly anymore, updates will come when I write something. Very busy with my original works right now.  
**

* * *

I leisurely followed Tonks along the winding white corridors of St Mungo's, occasionally playing a small match of 'I spy' as she introduced me to the different floors and wards. The entire experience was quite interesting, and oftentimes a stark reminder of the danger that magic posed.

For many of the people currently inhabiting the hospital, one mistake had cost them weeks, if not months of their life, although one naturally shouldn't disregard the possibility of it not being their fault.

"And that's mister Jenkins, he's here basically every month. He has a lisp that makes it impossible for him to pronounce _accio,_ the summoning charm _,_ correctly, causing all the objects that he tries to summon to shoot into his stomach at really high speeds. He refuses to stop using the spell however." Tonks explained. She truly was a fountain of patient trivia.

The information had probably been soaked up from her mother. God knows medical professionals needed someone they could complain about their patients to. It reminded me of the one time my cousin, who had been an orderly at the time, had come to me to complain about a patient whose story involved intestines, explosions, and a new paint job for the inspection room.

"That's pretty dumb." I said, remarking upon the story of mister Jenkins.

"Wizards." Tonks commented with a shrug.

"What's that?" I asked, while pointing at the sterile white corridor like any other that I knew led to the long-term residents ward, otherwise known as the Janus Thickey Ward for irrevocable spell damage. A place Tonks had glossed over, probably in an attempt to keep me away from it, it was after all the saddest place in the entire building. Except for maybe intensive care and the emergency room, or the maternity ward.

Tonks winced and rubbed the back of her head, "It's not really a nice place, and, well, nobody who's in there should be made fun of or have their peace disrupted." She said.

I put on my thinking face, cutesy version #5™. "Do you think they would mind if we went in there to wish them a nice day?" I asked, and was treated to the face a Hufflepuff made when told something completely wholesome.

An imaginary arrow pierced Tonks' heart and she was able to cough out a short "Y-eeah." through the pain of having her emotional centres and ovaries violently explode at the same time.

And thus we entered the belly of the beast, to do exactly what I had said we'd do, really.

We went from bed to bed, wishing the patients well. Only some were aware enough of their surroundings to reciprocate their greetings, although I liked to think that our visit helped even the ones who did not "truly" notice it.

As I passed a healer, noticeable as they were, dressed completely in lime green, I saw that the last few beds that they wanted to visit already had a visitor, a little one that was. Blonde, short, slightly pudgy, something tickled at the back of my mind. Something about a curvaceous behind? No, no, it was, Longbottom. Which would make the dangerously thin and wispy haired woman Alice Longbottom, the male, Frank Longbottom, the child being Neville of course.

But where was Augusta? I thought I'd seen an older woman with a vulture hat down at the fundraiser. Leaving her grandson unattended? How horribly foolish. Why, simply anybody could get close to the child in the, by the shaking of the shoulders, emotionally volatile state that he was in and whisper things into his ear.

I felt Tonks weakly grasp my shoulder as I strode purposefully forward, Neville would be one of my future classmates, I couldn't simply leave the boy there, an unscrupulous scoundrel could make a move this very moment!

"They seem happy to see you." I remarked in a soft voice as I halted to a stop at Neville's left shoulder. It was the truth, Frank and Alice did, in their absent-minded way. Neville turned to me with red eyes and brought out a very articulated sounding, "Huh?"

I continued, not minding the low capacity of understanding shown by the child, he was only seven after all. "You know, people who wake up from comas often report that they were capable of taking in outside stimuli, they were simply incapable of responding." I patted Neville's shoulder to get his attention and nodded in Alice's direction. "But your parents are doing a bit better than that even, look, she's smiling."

"Yeah, she is." Neville muttered while pawing at his eyes with the sleeves of his blue robe.

"They're happy to see you. A bond between a child and a parent is a thing even magic cannot sever. I think there is one thing that would make them even happier though..." I said and trailed off, theatrically staring off at the ceiling, which was too bright, causing me to avert my eyes.

"What would make them happier?" Neville asked, with all the urgency a seven year old could muster.

"You smiling as well, instead of crying of course." I answered, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Neville's face turned gloomy again.

"I don't have anything to smile about. They're here because of me," Neville said, then spent the next several minutes explaining his life's story. He'd only met me a minute or so ago, and everyone was listening in, so I found the whole situation incredibly awkward and unprofessional.

I held fast though, and as Neville was forced to breathe in some air to continue his self-flagellation, I interrupted him.

"They don't have much to smile about either, do they?" I asked, effectively shutting the child up, "But they're still smiling. Your parents are heroes you know? And when you have to save someone, they're usually in a very scary situation, so a true hero tries to not only save a person's life, but also a person's heart. That's what I believe. So no matter how scary a situation gets, no matter the state you're in, you have to give 'em a smile, as if to say "I'm a-ok". Your parents saved your life, and they're still giving their best to save your heart by always smiling when you're here. The people in this world who can smile in the face of adversity are always the strongest. Your parents, they're probably the strongest people I've ever met, and you." I trailed off again, putting a finger to Neville's chest, whose eyes were growing wider and wider. "Are the one they determined to carry their will, so instead of crying, give them a big 'ole smile as you work on becoming the best healer ever, so that one day." I trailed off, again, for dramatic effect, it worked, okay. "You can be their hero instead."

I pumped my fist on the inside as Neville seemingly taking my words to heart, tried to turn his grimace into a smile, resulting in a combination of the two really. Noticing this the boy put up his hands and forced his mouth corners upwards physically.

As if ordained by god Alice chose this moment to give out a small laugh and clap her hands weakly while staring at her son through half-lidded eyes.

"See, you smiled, and it worked." I said dramatically.

"You think I can be a healer?" Neville asked, his voice being distorted through the ridiculously wide smile he was giving off.

"Of course you can," I said instantaneously and feeling the need to amend that statement a bit, added, "just remember, no matter how deep the night, it always turns to day, eventually. Eventually being the key point here. It won't be instantaneous, it will take years even, but your parents will always be cheering you on with their smiles, and there is no fight as easily lost as the one never fought." I finished and watched in fascination as Neville's whole being seemed to undergo a change, his posture straightened, his eyes seemed to instantly dry up and his smile turned form ridiculous into truly radiant.

I heard a soft sob and was confused, Neville wasn't crying, I knew that I certainly wouldn't be crying in this situation, so I looked behind me to see Tonks tearing up somewhat heavily, face red, running nose and crocodile tears running down her cheeks.

"Tonks are you seriously crying right now, after that speech about smiling, seriously?" I asked exasperatedly.

"Shut up," She muttered, wiping away her tears and snot with her sleeves, "I'm not crying, you're crying."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

 **Read my original story Living a Long life as a legend on RoyalRoad**

 **Thanks to; doug89, RyuD and the Ulvlar; for helping edit this chapter.**

* * *

The interaction with Neville had been the high point of the entire excursion to be honest. I'd scurried away quickly, unwilling to stay and potentially ruin the successful impact on his life that I'd just had. The rest of the trip afterwards simply paled in comparison.

I also had the suspicion that Tonks was still a bit emotional over what had just transpired, mostly due to the fact that she kept saying how much of a good boy I was and cooing over me. She reminded me of my mother, which ok, she was a female relative twice my age, but still.

Acting on the same principle of which I had left Neville on. Namely, ditch them at the high point instead of waiting until everything devolved into an awkward silence. I managed to extricate myself from Tonks' loving companionship with several excuses regarding my probably worried parents, my dying grandmother, and the fact that I had left my oven on.

Alright the last two had been an exaggeration, even the first excuse about my parents had been enough for Tonks to start escorting me back to the party, but I swore to Merlin that her over-the-top behaviour was infecting me.

Sadly I did not get to see Tonks' face when I walked up to Mother and asked her in a very pure blooded manner when we were leaving, she'd already been dragged off by her mother Andromeda, who had intercepted us as we were returning to the party.

The answer by the way, to the question of when we were leaving, was another several hours from now. I simply nodded, and left the small conclave of ladies, who had been surrounding my mother as I'd asked the question, to their nauseatingly sweet compliments of how well-behaved I was.

The entire thing, humorously enough, reminded me of my first childhood all those years ago. When my parents would drag me off to a short meet-up with their friends over some coffee, that inevitably lasted several hours when I'd been promised less than one. Back then I'd spent the time bumbling around whatever neighbourhood we were currently in and almost always ended up playing either basketball or soccer with the local kids in one of the numerous open air courts.

I wistfully sighed as I leaned back against a tree, out of sight of everyone, and for once let myself get lost in nostalgia. Bumbling around right now, after all, was inadvisable, so the only place I could really go lose myself was in was my memories.

That was how I spent the rest of the party, thinking about my past life. Occasionally politely, but decisively dismissing other children that came over to play. I was a Homo Sapiens, I already had access to the greatest toy and tool of all time, my mind.

It was thus that my parents found me after the sun had already started its inevitable descent smiling foolishly at nothing while sitting behind a tree.

After checking that I was indeed fine, and had not been confounded, obliviated, or otherwise turned into a drooling moron, they couldn't help but crow at me -in a highly aristocratic manner mind you- about how much of a success the day had been.

I'd only been in the public eye for about a sixth of the time that I'd actually spent at St Mungo's, but for all the fact that the time investment was small, the effect was grand, well at least in comparison to the effect that any other actual seven-year-old had ever achieved.

My parents were so happy even, that they did not seem to mind the fact that I'd spent some of the time with Nymphadora Tonks the half-blood and Neville Longbottom the blood-traitor. They were rather unresponsive to my expressed wish of wanting to meet them more often in the future, but even that in itself was a victory considering who they were.

My real reward came later, once we'd taken the floo back home and had sat down at the dinner table with Grandfather to partake in, well, dinner.

"I've managed to learn the fidelius charm." Grandfather said proudly. He hadn't even waited until we'd finished eating.

"It only took you several years, I'm proud of you Grandfather." I graciously said in lieu of my mother and father seemingly being at a loss for words, and while the words may have sounded patronizing, they weren't.

One had to consider that the fidelius charm was something that pertained to soul magic, affected quite literally the entire world, and dealt with abstract matters such as information and truth. I couldn't quite remember, but I was fairly sure that the only one to actually cast the spell in the original Harry Potter verse had been Dumbledore. Although to be fair since the spell pertained to keeping secrets, it would not be unusual for more fidelius protected information to exist, but for it to be simply unknown.

"The effect this will have on our near and far-lasting future, the possibilities that spring to mind, amazing." Lucius finally managed to mutter out.

"Magic is Might." I drawled out, half-heartedly locking eyes with Grandfather, he knew what I meant.

He chose to reply to Lucius instead, disregarding my words, but if I knew him he filed them away for further discussion. "Yes, the possibilities are endless, well almost, the amount of secrets a soul can keep is limited, and we are only a family of four. Now the question is, who shall carry the secret of the library, and whatever other miscellaneous undesirable artefacts we can stuff into it." Grandfather said.

All eyes grudgingly turned to me, which made sense, I was after all the only one in the family with impenetrable mental walls. Another advantage was that well, nobody would suspect it, but the fact that this advantage stemmed from was a clear argument against this course of action. I was seven -almost eight!-.

I leaned back, considering if I should share the possibility that I had stumbled upon, and decided for it. It was an idea that I was not capable of furthering on my lonesome anyway.

"I would like to refuse. As you previously mentioned Grandfather, we have four family members, that means we have four secrets we can keep, three if no one else amongst us manages to learn the fidelius, since one can not cast it on oneself." I said, drew in some breath, and decided to drop the bombshell I had thought up. "I would like to keep my soul burden-free, for when we manage to hide a much larger and more profitable secret." I trailed off, staring into the distance.

"And what secret would that be Draco?" Grandfather asked patiently, knowing that my manner of speaking was simply there to serve a dramatic effect.

"The fidelius is a charm, beautiful, but limited in scope by the fact that it is wand-magic. It is reliant entirely on the magical capacity and the will of the user. The requirements rising exponentially with the effect that the information would have on the world if it were to be hidden and how many people and resources would need to be permanently blanked out if the information is already out there. However all wand-magic can be expressed ritually, just like all ritual magic can be expressed with a wand, disregarding scale. Rituals have the advantage -as I understand- that while they are lengthier, and require more resources. They also have a much higher potential output since one can draw the needed energy from sources other than oneself, and can even save up the energy over years to release it in a potentially world-changing event." I said simply, my mother being the first to catch on to what exactly I was implying.

"And what exactly would you seek to hide if it were indeed to work that way?" She asked sharply.

I raised an eyebrow, as if it was obvious. "Well, how about the fact that we ever served the Dark Lord, or the fact that we are a dark family? Maybe the information that the Malfoys even exist? How about casting the fidelius on the very medium used to bring it into existence? Magic itself?" I said, languidly sipping from my orange juice. "The possibilities are endless." I paused. "If it is indeed feasible." I grudgingly finished.

What got lost within the excitement that that particular thought experiment produced was the fact that I now, indeed, as expected, had access to the library. Well, more of it than I had before.


	20. Chapter 20

Thank you to: The ulvlar, myllinu, Benjy and Ryu D for helping out with the chapter on discord (link in profile)

Check out my original story, "Living a Long Life as a Legend" on RoyalRoad/scribblehub

Chapter 20

* * *

After almost an hour of heated discussion about the possibilities that the fidelius truly offered, Grandfather leading the discussion due to it being his expertise, we finally came to a conclusion.

Namely that while it was true that the fidelius could be cast on any piece of information, and a ritual casting of the spell was indeed theoretically possible, in the grand scheme of things, every single one of my suggestions was not feasible. The power required to hide even the simplest of the secrets, 'the Malfoys served the Dark Lord', was impossible. What was possible however, was casting the fidelius on the most damning evidence leading people to that conclusion, since it was only a subset of the larger truth.

For example the unmasking that Lucius had experienced in a rather heated fight at diagon alley, which had been the event that had caused the cascade effect resulting in his apprehension. Or of course we could cast the fidelius on his dark mark, which had other interesting implications when one considered the fact that Voldemort was not dead.

Suffice to say that while my whole point had been largely shut down, I wasn't too bothered. It had been just a thought after all, and all in all, it was decided that I would not be the one to carry the secret of our library.

To my surprise what had come to pass at the end of the discussion was mother choosing to take on the secret and to also learn the fidelius. The discussion had truly highlighted the immense usefulness of the charm, and I suspected, since it had been Grandfather to bring it up, there was also some fear that with one death our family would lose most of our newfound expertise on the piece of magic.

Grandfather had written a journal that outlined his journey towards learning the thing, but a more hands on approach was always better. A hands on approach that I myself would take into consideration in a few years.

-/-

The idea of making the very existence of magic a secret wouldn't let me go, it never strayed far from my mind throughout the next days, weeks. It was simply, too perfect.

The concept to be held secret was too broad for it to affect anyone but muggles, who had no resistance against mind manipulation, but this was fine, since, well, muggles were kind of the problem.

I might have been one in my last life, sure, but I was very much a wizard now, and had only to lose when muggles finally discovered the existence of magic in the future and do what they did best. Namely, fear, hate, exterminate, and if that did not work, then it would be a process of industrialization or commercialisation. I didn't know which option I dreaded more.

It would probably only become an issue sometime in the mid 2000's, but being a wizard, that would be the time when I would be entering my mid-life crisis. Thus it was evident that planning for the eventuality now was a good idea.

Only that I couldn't, plan now, that was. I was incapable of even understanding the underlying theory of the fidelius, let alone the ritualistic and arithmetic knowledge needed to apply it on a world-wide scale. Thus I was very grateful when a fruitful distraction offered itself up to me, allowing me to shelf my incessant ideas of eternal magical supremacy for later.

I was even more overjoyed about the distraction being, you know, a positive instead of a negative.

Grandfather had managed to get his hands on the memory of Grindelwald's duel with Dumbledore, and Lucius had managed to get his hands on a pensieve.

The combination of the two was truly a wondrous conclusion to my woes of not having an easy way to gain experience. Now while watching others have epic magical battles would not so much teach me how to do so myself, it would definitely help having a subconscious repository of 'experience' to draw from when I actually attempted to learn the craft.

The variety I would have access to was great as well, Lucius had been a talented duellist in his youth and had then went on to become basically a member of the magical I.R.A, my mother and Grandfather were also far from innocent in the regards of how many heads they'd knocked.

Wait, didn't I also have a bunch of other relatives? Sure we'd distanced ourselves from the Blacks quite a bit after their disastrous handling of the aftermath of the blood war, but surely some of them would be amenable to making a small deposit into the Malfoy cinematory combat experience repository.

Well, gathering the memories was good and all, but while we now had a pensieve, Grandfather wanted to test it out, it wouldn't make much sense to throw the only heir at a previously obscure piece of magical equipment after all.

The wait... was fine, and just like that my thoughts of the fidelius were replaced with anticipation for the interesting pieces of magic I would witness in the duel between two giants. It was also great to know that that particular duel would then be followed by me spectating an even grander one. Dumbledore had after all had about 30 years to train himself up, and had also gained the allegiance of the death stick by the time he faced his next Dark Lord, Voldemort.

Voldemort, I let the name roll off my tongue, he must indeed have been something special to stand against an old wizard in possession of a deathly hallow.

But for a few more weeks, as Grandfather thoroughly examined and experimented with the pensieve, I would have to content myself with the books in the library that had previously been inaccessible to me.

As odd as it sounded, I actually continued my study of history, although now it was more of a specific interest. I wanted to know the historical contexts of the Great War, to truly understand the duel I was soon to witness.


	21. Chapter 21

Thank you for editing: Douglas, Myllinu, Amalgna

Check out my original story "Living a Long Life as a Legend" on RoyalRoad.

Chapter 21

* * *

The pensieve check-up was proceeding, slowly, but surely, of this Grandfather assured me. I was glad to hear that, since I'd actually managed to read most of the stuff we had on Grindelwald's war already. I mean yes, it was an entire war, that had spanned over the entire European continent. But there were also only so many different accounts of one single war that one could read, before one started to get bored of the same events from different perspectives. Most of the contents of history were after all the same. Only the biased tone of the author that had written it down differed.

Thankfully I had gained a distraction from my wait for the pensieve, which had originally been a distraction from my obsession about the fidelius. Which was, kind of funny.

The new distraction here being that the Granger's had apparently finally picked out the not so subtle clues we'd left them within the books we'd delivered, and were understandably pretty horrified at the existence of legilimency. Oh boy, if their reaction to that particular branch of magic were frantic panic, and pleading to my Grandfather to please tell them that there was a remedy against having one's mind invaded. I couldn't wait to see their reaction when they found out about the honestly pretty rapey combination of the _imperious_ and the _obliviate._

Thankfully our plan for the Granger's had already been discussed to death, and thus Grandfather was easily 'convinced' that, if someone needed help, then who was he to not offer it. His grandson, coincidentally, shared the same opinion and had just reached the skill level in legilimency where he could invade someone's mind to train them in defence against intrusions, but was still too inexperienced to actually do any real damage. And thus the first session of me violating the mind of an eight year old girl would happen in... I cast a _tempus_ to check the time. In about ten minutes.

Checking myself over in the mirror I made sure that my muggle clothes, archaic, but not too archaic, were in the correct position, and that I looked sufficiently innocent for the task at hand.

I waited patiently for my grandfather to come fetch me, and when he did, he looked quite snazzy dressed in a frock, we departed, disappearing from our foyer with the memorable pop of apparition.

We appeared within an abandoned alley and once we'd left it, I reoriented myself to see in which part of London I was. We attracted attention naturally, we did look like we'd walked out of a 1920's propaganda poster after all.

Suffice to say I didn't recognize it, it having been several decades since I'd been here. London had also looked quite different in the year 2041 than it did now, in 1988.

It was definitely cleaner though, which was preferable. We quickly made our way towards a two storey, red-bricked house with a nice white picket fence and a small garden filled with slightly neglected looking roses.

Grandfather, instead of using the doorbell, looked around, and flicked his wand at us, and at the door. We entered, steps silenced, and walked through the small, remarkably small in comparison to our mansion, shoe room, towards the voices.

Everything stilled as we walked into what appeared to the living room, a middle-aged man with pepper-grey hair sitting on a couch dropping his newspaper, and immediately standing up to extend a hand towards Grandfather, who, to my respect, with no seeming reluctance, shook it.

"Abraxas, thank god you're here, my wife has been going crazy thinking of all the ways that Hermione could have her mind violated if we didn't start the training as early as possible." He turned to me and extended a hand, which I took. He made to ask something, but I interrupted him as we shook hands. I distantly heard the clanging of pots in what must have been the kitchen.

"Draco Malfoy, this old man's grandson. Your daughter's new occlumency helper, apparently." I said, a surprised look hushed over his face as he took in my words and the tone that I spoke them in.

"Dan, Hermione's father. Your grandfather told me you had a magical talent that let you mature faster?" He introduced himself and asked about my mental condition. I noticed that his breath hitched a little on the word magic, as if he was still unused to it.

Well, it would have been foolish of them to simply let any child work on their daughter's mind, although, it might have been better for Hermione personally if it had been an actual child instead of me.

"Yes, I'm a natural at the magic discipline that your daughter is trying to learn, one of the benefits included is a more structured mind, which leads to faster maturation." I explained, watching Dan's eyes light up in interest.

"One of the benefits?" He asked, at which I nodded.

"Yes, faster thought processing, higher mindfulnesses, better memory, etc. etc. It's a lot like meditation in the sense that it offers a bunch of mental improvements, but that the road there is hard." I said as Dan seemed to be getting more and more excited. "But, don't get your hopes, the benefits are substantially lessened if one is taught occlumency the brutish way, instead of the refined, but time-consuming one."

Dan visibly curbed his enthusiasm. "Yes, yes, I already know, if she walked the longer path Hermione would be finished sometime in her mid-twenties, which is why we're glad that you are here to help. What did your grandfather say again? Shock therapy, don't like the sound of that really, but my daughter's going insane at the thought of someone invading her mind just as much as her mother. So it's good we have the opportunity, just for the nerves if nothing else." He said, question visible in his eyes. He wanted to prod if the manner of learning occlumency was indeed what Grandfather had told him, and thus he was asking me to confirm.

Cute, but misguided, Grandfather and I were working closely together on the 'Granger' case, we'd already discussed exactly what to say.

"Hmm, shock therapy fits all in all, I don't know how my Grandfather explained it, so I'll just give my own analogy in case it might brighten things up more. Have you ever watched a horror movie Dan?" I asked, making Dan blink in surprise at the fact that I was using a muggle analogy, of all things.

"I have, I quite like them actually." He answered.

I nodded. "Good, then you'll understand. The mind of your daughter is untrained to the shock that a mind probe represents, it's like a jump scare in a horror movie. What we're going to be doing is exposing her again and again to the jump scare, metaphorically, via me attacking her mind. Eventually she will lose all fear of it, this is the first step. Now I would like to make a boxing comparison. You cannot block a punch if you close your eyes every time one comes at you. With the jump scare treatment we've managed to make your daughter keep her eyes open, now comes the point where she can observe the attack coming at her, and begins to understand it. With understanding, comes power, and after being confronted with enough punches she should be able, if not to fight back, at least disengage completely from someone wishing to enter her mind." I finished explaining.

Dan was gaping at me, while Grandfather was also giving me a contemplative look.

I wasn't hiding my knowledge of muggles anymore, since I'd been allowed outside often enough by now, that I could have stumbled upon it on one of my outings.

"That's a very concise analogy. Thanks for explaining it to me in such detail." Dan eventually said, sincerity tingeing his voice.

I nodded at him. "Thank you, I admit to having researched muggles a bit in preparation for coming here. There are so many interesting things in your world." I said, childish smile on my face.

"Now regarding the lessons, did we interrupt anything, or can we start now?" I asked, at which Dan nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, better be quick, I'll take you to her. No worries, you didn't interrupt anything." He muttered as he lead me to Hermione's room.


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks: Ryu D, Almarna, Myllinu

Chapter 22

Dan took me upstairs and down a corridor, at the end of which he knocked on a cream-coloured door.

A, "Come in." resounded from within, and Dan opened the door.

"Hey sweetie, Mr Malfoy's grandson is here to give you a lesson." Dan said, calmly at the small girl lying on her bed and reading a thick tome. Astrology if I identified it correctly.

I was then treated to the humorous scene of the bushy-haired girl dropping her book and jumping out of her bed in a fright to gape at her father.

"Already?" She squeaked, and then froze when she saw me standing beside her father, archaic garb and quirked brow.

A noise resembling the mating call of a sloth escaped her throat, before she waddled towards us a bit, waved her arms as if she was trying to take off into the sky and migrate to Africa, and eventually bent down in what a drunken spectator might ten years later claim must have been a rhinoceros' attempt at a curtsy. "Greetings, heir Malfoy." She managed to stutter out as she did all that.

I honestly would have burst out laughing had I not known that it was the stupidest thing I could have done in the situation. Instead, I completed my own bow, which for the case of a pure-blood greeting a muggleborn was more of a nod. "Greetings young lady Granger. I am gladdened to see that you have taken the book on etiquette that my mother insisted be forwarded to you too heart. It is a most welcome surprise." I said, clearly insinuating that other muggleborns had left her a hefty reputation that she would have to make up for if she were to be taken seriously.

I honestly don't think she actually understood the back handedness of my compliment and the warning that it held. She just smiled at me. Well, she was eight years old. What had I been doing at that age? Climbing trees and throwing sticks at cows?

"Please extend the esteemed lady Malfoy my thanks for the material, it has been most helpful." Hermione eventually said, the pause making it clear that she'd needed some time to come up with the sentence and to garb it in the proper decorum.

"I shall certainly endeavour to do so at the earliest. I will also forward to her that you have not only read it, but also started to apply its lessons. I imagine she will be most thrilled" I said, starting to feel like I was in a crossover between "Harry Potter" and "Pride and Prejudice".

I suddenly changed my body-language from stiff, to languid. "I would, however, suggest we stop with the overblown etiquette for now. It's usually reserved for formal functions and for first introductions. Showing people that you're someone who has been educated with the correct manners so they may then extend you the courtesy of sharing a conversation tinged in a more blasé tone. Suffice to say that while you did not comport yourself perfectly, you made an impassioned enough attempt, and since I am not here to evaluate your poise, but rather to train you in occlumency, I will have to insist that we drop the formalities so we may begin the lessons at the earliest." I said, watching the gears spin behind the girl's eyes as she fidgeted with her brown blouse. "You may call me Draco." I added.

"Ermm, I'm Hermione. Can we start with the lessons then?" She eventually said.

This was the part where Dan interrupted us. "Yes, let's adjourn to the living room, I think Abraxas will want to be present, and your mother won't mind keeping you in the corner of her eye during the lesson either."

We walked back to the living room, me walking with Dan, and Hermione trailing behind us. "Adjourn huh?" I asked, chuckling. "Didn't take ya for such a stiffy, gov'ner." I said in my best imitation of a gutter accent.

Dan gave me an amused look, before shivering. "Hermione has been blazing her way through thesauruses ever since she's gotten that book on wizarding etiquette. She's been wanting to impress your Grandfather. I've probably picked up a few words by osmosis." He admitted.

"Dad, you weren't supposed to tell him that." Hermione whined from behind, before slapping a hand over her mouth if the sound was any indication.

I chuckled.

We made the rest of our way into the living room in silence, both the Granger's exuding a sort of nervous energy. Once there, I didn't let formalities take over once again, and simply explained to Hermione what these sessions would entail, and why they were structured this way.

In no time at all, I thus found myself pointing my wand at an eight-year-old's forehead, about to cast a malicious spell, her parents watching from the side.

The plan for now was simple. I would keep the lessons light, and gain the trust of the girl and her parents. Eventually the parents would trust me enough to not feel the need to be present during lessons. This could be facilitated by me claiming to be unavailable at times where they were not at work. Then, once alone with Hermione, I could dig up more painful memories, that I would avoid for now, and then be her only source of comfort. Gaining someone's trust by healing the wounds that one had created. How droll. The legilimency sessions would also provide me with all the information I would ever need on the girl, making it even easier to manipulate her. It did not hurt that I was likely the only person her age who she would have a connection too, I assumed at least.

And if it were not so, I could make it so.

Most people, girls especially, followed a strict form of social orthodoxy, or one could say, pack mentality. They will follow whatever is deemed socially acceptable by their surroundings. It starts at a young age. Girls being obsessed with being popular, wearing the right clothes, listening to the right music. Although Hermione seemed to be low on the conformity spectrum, it was a spectrum for a reason, nobody was immune, especially at a young age.

To control people, one only needed to control the social norms that they held up to be the most important. To control the social norms, one needed to control the social environment, and while I was unable to replace the entirety of the muggle world with something that would form Hermione into what I wanted her to be, I could take up an important role in her social environment. The role of her only friend/confidant/peer. A role I would then abuse to cut her off from all other venues of social influence, making me the sole solicitor of positive emotions and morality.

The plan spelled out sounded quite evil now that I thought of it.

"Legilimens."


	23. Chapter 23

**Read my original story "Living a Long life as a Legend" on RoyalRoad.**

 **Thanks: Anon, Almarna, Douglas, for editing this chapter.**

 **Chapter 23**

* * *

The Grangers walked us to the door and gratefully sent us off after the session was over, the next one already scheduled. I wonder how they would have reacted had I given an actual lesson in Occlumency, going for the most painful, most embarrassing memories.

Hermione would have probably burst into tears, the lessons discontinued and our families' relationship with the Grangers strained.

Thankfully I was smarter than that, and had, as mentioned already, begun with fairly harmless stuff, and would only accelerate towards more emotionally impactful memories once I had harangued the girls parents into letting us have the lessons in private.

I knew intellectually that that was the correct approach of course, and I'd never been described as a particularly impatient man. The opposite rather, my time preference was quite low- However, that did not mean that I enjoyed those parts of a plan that were simply a slog to get through.

I'd spent the last hour viewing memories of what the girl had been eating for breakfast the day before, and once I'd found the information, the day before. Ad infinitum.

It wasn't a complete waste of time of course, Hermione had actually been able to feel the probe at the end there. But due to the mundanity of the memories, she hadn't had any incentive to stop the intrusion. She'd tried, sure, but the situation was comparable to Hermione getting into a fight with a professional sumo wrestler.

It was honestly quite unfair to the girl that I was the one who was teaching her. While my proficiency with the spell was still unsatisfactory, the mental battle often-times basically boiled down to a clash of wills. The notion that a little girl had any chance to retaliate against my decades, soon, centuries, of life experience, and the willpower that I'd been honing during all of that time, was quite frankly, ridiculous.

Thankfully holding back so she could actually learn something was a perfectly plausible alternative to simply crushing her every time we attempted a mental battle.

"You look... annoyed." Grandfather remarked after we'd apparated back home.

"I am." I admitted.

"Care to enlighten me as to why? Your acting was prodigious, and the progress of your little plan has been sufficiently secured for the foreseeable future." Grandfather remarked.

I huffed. "Just because I will greatly enjoy what will come out of this venture, does not mean that I enjoy taking the steps it will require to ripen this enterprise to its fruition."

"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts about the morality of the issue." Grandfather said, aghast.

I snorted, after contemplating how my previous words could have been interpreted. "I assure you, that morals are a thing I decisively lack. Likely to an extent, that if you knew the true depths of depravity I was capable of, if promised sufficient reward, would horrify even you."

We fell into a contemplative silence for a while after that.

"What is the problem then?" Grandfather eventually asked.

"Do you, just because you enjoy the meal that you eat, enjoy the process of cooking it?" I asked back.

Grandfather snorted. "Ah, I see that my belief in your inherent complexity as an individual has left my thoughts somewhat befuddled. I had ignored the possibility that you were actually exhibiting something that might even remotely be interpreted as childish, likely because you did not at any opportunity act on your emotions, like a child would. You are bored by the process of turning the little Granger into what you want her to be, almost as much as you are anticipating the rewards that you will reap from her transformation."

I considered his words. Before I eventually decided that I agreed. Boredom, a deadly foe. "You've hit the nail on its metaphorical head. To tell the truth, I experience boredom quite often, although I try to minimise it where I can." I said, not rising to the bait of his hidden question of what I actually wanted from the girl.

Grandfather sighed. "Well, if you are willing to take advice from an old man," funny, considering I was older than him, "then I would say that what needs to be done is to change the lens through which you view the world, into something that will make even boring tasks enjoyable, to a certain degree. Journey before destination and all that."

It was sound advice, I admitted. It was much easier to change one's outlook of the world, so as to turn boredom into contentment, rather than change the whole world to eradicate boredom. "Sound advice." I eventually said, and we parted ways. Having reached, and spent the last two minutes talking at the crossing between the children's wing, where I still resided, and the wing where Grandfather completed most of the family business. Business that would soon find its way entirely onto Lucius' shoulders. Freeing up Grandfather in the process.

He'd died somewhere before the original Draco's sixth year, if I remembered correctly.

Although his newfound study of archaic and complicated magic, that I had prompted by bringing up the Fidelius all those years ago, might have changed his fate. Although what he was studying now, at my urging, was unlikely to save him from dragon pox. Sympathetic connections between entities sharing attributes, and the manipulation there-off. Voodoo, basically. If some African shaman high on mushroom juice could torture someone with a doll bearing the hair of the targeted person, I wonder what potential shenanigans possessing half a person's soul could lead to.

The fidelius, it was going to be cast soon. Mother was taking on the secret, the only thing yet to be decided was where to put our little hidey-hole filled with dark books and artefacts. Considerations for the near future.

How had I even come upon these topics? Ah yes, Grandfather's likely imminent death.

Maybe it was time to start hanging out a bit with the old man. Show him a thing or two before he kicked the bucket.

It might even lead to the early beginning of some hobbies that I was technically incapable of pursuing due to them requiring adult supervision.


	24. Chapter 24

Hey guys, I'll keep this short. I don't plan on writing fanfiction at the moment, and if I ever come back, I would just start another story.

Seeing as this is the case, I naturally said yes when someone offered to adopt this story, it is fairly flattering one must admit. However, without further ado. Here is where you can find the continuation of this story. The author is 'LazySierra', and the name remains 'Malicious,Magical, Malfoy'.

I hereby transfer all rights (of which I have none), yadda, yadda. Try it out, LazySierra has a different writing style, and is taking the story in another direction (likely), but it might very well be your cup of tea as well, so at least give it a chance if youre invested in this story


End file.
